


Consume

by AngeLhearteD



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 03:17:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3193277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeLhearteD/pseuds/AngeLhearteD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She loves him with unwavering loyalty and a tenderness he craves. He loves her with a desperation and fire that steals her breath away. Their passion is all encompassing, consuming. Newly married, they can't seem to keep their hands off each other. A collection of SasuSaku smut one-shots, exploring various scenarios during marriage, including family interaction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. His First

_Sasuke and Sakura’s wedding night. Contains smut. Please also note that Sasuke’s left arm has been replaced by Tsunade here, and this takes place after ‘The Last’ movie._

_This is my first time writing a love-scene, so no flames, please. Also keep in mind this is both Sasuke and Sakura’s first time, as I’d like to think Sasuke is from a very traditional Clan and would wait until marriage to sleep with her.  
_

**Disclaimer:** _Sasuke Uchiha and Sakura Haruno/Uchiha belong to Masashi Kishimoto.  
_

* * *

**His First**

* * *

**_Scenario:_ ** _Sasuke and Sakura's wedding night. **  
**_

* * *

He leads her quietly through the dim, candle-lit corridors of his ancestral family home, his bare feet treading routes that are still acutely ingrained within the deepest catacombs of his mind. The polished wooden pathways he navigates are all too familiar, and the memory is enough to tug on the old strings of nostalgia slumbering somewhere inside his chest – but there are no more ghosts or past demons, here. The compound has been fully restored to its former glory, and is ready once more for life.

Ready, once again, for _love._

She follows him, her small, slender fingers tightly entwined between his longer, larger ones, and beneath the flickering glow of flame, she glimpses it once again; the telling glint of lustrous diamond that reminds her of her new status and title.

_Uchiha Sakura._

The name is a musical serenade inside her head. She feels giddy, breathless, still caught in a state of star-struck awe and disbelief. She had waited and dreamt of this day, of this _moment_ , since childhood, and it had been everything she had ever wanted and so much more. Ino and her friends had decorated the venue to perfection, and the festivities had been loud and joyous, lasting late into the evening. A little _too_ boisterous, perhaps, for the innately private Sasuke’s tastes, and an anxious Sakura had half-feared that her handsome groom would lunge at Naruto at several points during the speeches and attempt to throttle him, when Konoha’s Seventh Hokage had launched into grossly exaggerated and thoroughly embarrassing tales of their genin-team adventures – _oh so long ago._

Tales that had all suspiciously ended with _them_ stuck in a disastrous fix - only to be miraculously rescued at the last moment by the loveable knucklehead.

Sasuke – whose ego always absolutely demanded that he outdo his rival and best friend in _every_ single department - had scowled murderously at the insulting inaccuracy of the accounts. Sakura had gaped in appalled dismay. Kakashi, scratching his head, had looked as bemused as one could with their features secretively concealed behind a mask.

It had gotten to a point where even Sakura had been left red-faced and twitching, ready to pummel the blond to a pulp for daring to mortify her on her special day - were it not for Sasuke’s firm, restraining grip on her knee beneath the table – but then the blond had suddenly looked straight at them, and with tears shining in his eyes, had raised his glass in toast and spoken words that had stunned them both.

_“We might not really be related, but these two were my family when I had nothing, when I was nobody, and they mean everything to me. Without you guys, I… I would’ve been lost. I wouldn’t have made it. Thank you, Sasuke. Sakura-chan.”_

Then, in typical Naruto fashion, he had ruined the emotional moment entirely by cheekily declaring that they name their firstborn in his honour.

The smile of recollection on Sakura’s lips widens as she focuses on their joined fingers. Biting her lower lip, she releases an internal squeal of glee. _Cha!_ All her fantasies had come true! Sasuke’s grip on her is secure, and he guides her with a certainty and confidence that makes apparent the commanding man he has become, no longer the frightened boy who had sought to sever all bonds and fled from responsibility and accountability in the past.

She then lifts her eyes to his broad back, setting them onto the red and white Uchiha emblem stitched proudly onto his traditional robes - an emblem that matches the one on her own. He is the last of a noble, prestigious line that has all but dwindled out. Sakura shyly hopes that it won’t be the case for long; that soon, there will be tiny feet padding along the wide halls, feet belonging to little cherubs who share their family name.

It is her job, she tells herself with conviction, to please him now, to meet every one of his needs – just as it is his to provide for hers. She sincerely hopes she can make him happy – but as he finally draws to a stop before a pair of sliding screen doors, Sakura feels the first flutters of apprehension replace the senseless excitement that had, up until that point, made her wedding day pass in an exhilarated rush.

Her smile falters. Suddenly she is nervous and overcome with all sorts of confidence-diminishing worries.

It is her first time. Of course she had saved herself for Sasuke – it had always only ever been him – but what if this is not his? The thought weighs heavily upon her mind, but what troubles her even more greatly is the prospect of him having high expectations – of her disappointing him.

 _What if I don’t satisfy him? What if I can’t relax and it hurts too much? I can’t seem to remember anything Ino or my mother told me about how to please a man_ , she thinks frantically to herself.

But she manages to plaster a smile onto her lips regardless as Sasuke directs a brief glance back at her, before releasing her hand to slide the doors to their new bedroom open.

They step inside, and as Sasuke quietly slides the screens shut behind them again and gives her a few minutes to settle in and adjust, Sakura’s eyes nervously bypass the low-framed, king-sized bed resting against the centre of the northern wall, to take in the sheer size of the impressive space. It is tidy, of course; she expects nothing less from a man as meticulous and orderly as Sasuke – with sturdy wooden wardrobes and shelves and carefully tended plant pots placed beside a larger set of screen doors to their right, leading out to what she assumes are the private compound’s gardens.

She is correct, for the doors slide smoothly apart as Sasuke pushes them open, and moonlight spills into the room, bathing it in an almost ethereal glow. Outside, beyond the wooden patio that provides access to other areas of their home, she glimpses an unexpected string of trees that share her name, lined against a high concrete wall bearing the Uchiha crest.

They are suitably in full bloom, in time with the early spring season.

She laughs softly in surprise, joining him by the open doors.

“ _Sakura_ trees?” Her tone is light and teasing as she admires the pretty blossoms. She desperately hopes she disguises how anxious she feels on the inside. “Have you planned this all along, Sasuke-kun?”

“Hn,” her new husband – _husband,_ her inner self screeches ecstatically – grunts, in that endearing manner of his, when he doesn’t quite feel entirely comfortable with openly admitting a truth – but isn’t inclined to lie about it, either.

Sakura distractedly fingers the Uchiha pendant he had gifted to her on her nineteenth birthday, as she watches the dusky pink petals, appearing lavender under the starry night sky’s milky illumination, flutter noiselessly to the ground.

The cool, pleasant fresh air that drifts into the room helps Sakura to clear her head for a moment. But when she feels Sasuke’s warmth behind her, she barely manages to suppress the shudder that shoots down along her spine, sending goose-pimples surfacing along her skin.

At some point, while they had been watching the peaceful, idyllic scene, he had slipped behind her. He had always had the knack, from a remarkably young age, of moving as gracefully and silently as a shadow.

“Sakura,” he exhales, as he draws back the white bridal hood that rests over her head. His voice is low. A near whisper as he takes in the significance of this situation.

Sakura closes her eyes, and takes the moment to really _feel_ his presence behind her; his warmth, his reassuring strength and power and the undeniable masculinity he radiates. She senses his formidable, potent chakra signature, and it crackles like a rolling thundercloud in the air around them, all static, thrumming electricity that makes her cantering heart beat a little faster. His chakra flow at that moment is curiously unstable - conflicted, almost. His usual, iron-like command of it seems to have temporarily faltered.

That is wholly uncharacteristic of him, Sakura thinks to herself, and then it hits her. It hits her that perhaps the ever-composed, unshakeable Uchiha Sasuke is a little nervous, too.

Sasuke begins to lift his right hand. He is standing close behind her – close enough for her back to brush the front of his body. Close enough to smell the delectable sweetness of her fragrance, to touch her. But he is suddenly hesitant. _Reluctant_ , almost, even when he knows that this is their long-awaited wedding night and it is to be expected that they consummate their union now.

He hesitates, but it isn’t because he doesn’t want her; Sasuke is suddenly unsettled by just _how much_ he desires his new bride – every part of her. But he is apprehensive, too, and is trying his best not to show it. And that- that weakness of body and mind- it _disturbs_ him.

Because he knows, if they proceed, that he will be vulnerable tonight. And he had promised himself vehemently, so many times in the past, that he would never allow himself to be unguarded ever again.

Yet he has always had a weakness in Sakura. This breath-taking woman, one he has watched bloom into the most resilient and beautiful of flowers, who has loved him for so long, and who stirs such turmoil within his heart; he is not worthy of her, he knows. But she has chosen to give herself to him in marriage, anyway. And he worries, as he notes the palpable tension in her shoulders, betraying her own jangling nerves, that he will not be enough for her. There is a lingering sense of self-doubt; that despite his best efforts to atone for his past, he cannot make her happy in the manner she truly deserves.

But he also knows that it could not have possibly ended any other way. He could not have suffered seeing Sakura with another man far less wretched than he was, content in the arms of someone else. The mere thought of anyone other than him touching her makes Sasuke’s chest burn with possessive jealousy. She is _his_ light, the light he had thought he had lost long ago. Her gentleness in his presence, her sweetness, her care and her touch bring him to life in ways that had startled him at first – but now fuelled a terrible, ravenous need.

He was gluttonous, really, for Sakura’s affections. This unnerving reality had hit him hard, after the war, after he had travelled the world on a path of redemption and self-discovery. He had known it when he had finally returned to Konoha after two years and sought her out, like he had promised to do before he’d left her. And perhaps it makes him selfish, but he wants to take every last ounce of love Sakura has to offer, to fill his starved self to the brim with her devotion, until he never again feels the torturous pain and agony of hollow emptiness.

Still, the uncharacteristic uncertainty lingers. His throat suddenly feels peculiarly parched. Unbidden and unwanted, words spoken to him the previous night whilst he’d been out drinking with Kakashi and Naruto drifted through his head – words he hadn’t particularly wanted to hear, but had found himself foolishly listening to, anyway.

Leave it to his old, perverted sensei to provide him with some last minute, emergency advice in the bedroom department.

_“The Uchiha have quite the reputation as passionate lovers, Sasuke.”_

Well, that casual opener, which had caused him to almost choke on his cup of sake, hadn’t been helpful at all.

Naruto, just _slightly_ intoxicated, had roared with laughter and dug an elbow into a coughing Sasuke’s ribs. _“BWAHAHA! Really?! No pressure then, eh Sasukeee?!”_

 _“Your wedding night is your entry into manhood.”_ Kakashi had gone on, to Sasuke’s dismay. _“It’s a battle ground in its own right – but you can’t simply just attack your opponent as you do in ordinary battle circumstances.”_

Sasuke’s ears had burned and he had frowned at this ridiculous piece of advice. Of course he hadn’t been planning on outright _ambushing_ Sakura! What did they think he was - some kind of uncultured animal?!

Although… the fleeting thought of tackling her completely off-guard had certainly seemed appealing for a brief moment…

 _“Yeah,”_ Naruto had sniggered. _“Can you imagine that? Sakura-chan’ll beat ya senseless, dattebayo!”_

 _“I’m certain that your bride wouldn’t appreciate it,’_ the former Hokage had agreed, chuckling in amusement. _“You must instead be gentle, Sasuke. Sensitive. I… ah… realise this may be difficult for you; but take it slowly. Make sure she is comfortable first. You wouldn’t want to do anything to frighten her off or make her tense.”_

 _“I’ll kick your ass if you ever hurt Sakura-chan!”_ Naruto had chipped in threateningly. _“You know I will, bastard! I’ll kick it so hard you’ll lose all your limbs this time!”_

 _“Shut up, usuratonkachi,”_ Sasuke had snapped back venomously.

 _“Just admit it, you asshole. You’re nervous.”_ His best friend had slapped him heartily on the back. _“Quit trying to act all cool! We can see right through you, right, Kakashi-sensei?”_

Kakashi, who was far wiser than the reckless blond, scratched the back of his head and prudently chose not to tease the last Uchiha.

 _“I am not,” _Sasuke had hissed furiously. A blatant lie.

 _“HAHAHA!”_ Naruto had pointed with his bandaged right hand, and made Sasuke’s eyebrows twitch in mortification when one of the bar staff had glanced nosily in their direction. _“You ARE! Sasuke-teme is totally nervous! Too nervous to do it with-”_

Sasuke had then proceeded to gracefully kick Naruto’s stool out from underneath him, sending the loud-mouthed blond tumbling to the ground, and prompting the absolute _moron_ of a Hokage to howl in protest.

_“SASUKEEE! You piece of shit! How dare you treat your Hokage like that? I’ll have your sorry ass thrown into jail, you stupid bastard!”_

Sasuke had hastily terminated the awkward conversation at that point. He hadn’t exactly felt comfortable discussing the topic of love-making to Sakura with Naruto and their perverted old teacher. Kakashi had sighed – and as Sasuke had risen from his stool, he’d nudged a small book toward him.

 _“Consider it a pre-wedding gift,”_ his childhood sensei had stated, winking mischievously at him as Naruto had quickly forgotten his ire and started to slur nonsensically about how much he loved Team Seven. Thinking only of the need to make a speedy retreat, Sasuke had grabbed the book and left Kakashi to deal with the whinging Hokage – only to return home and almost _choke_ when he’d realised what it was his old teacher had apparently _gifted_ to him.

A copy of _Icha Icha Make-Out Tactics_. Face burning, Sasuke had decided to get rid of it right there and then – he didn’t need sex advice from such a controversial and notorious love guide - only to shamefully give into temptation and end up flicking cautiously through it.

He hadn’t taken in much. Most of it had been stupid and downright outrageous. He’d scoffed and sneered in disgust – and he might have gotten somewhat flustered in places – but one thing had stood out in all the crammed pages of rambling, raunchy nonsense.

The stressed, male-ego boosting importance of pleasing a woman _first._

Sasuke’s thoughts return to the present and he swallows, and orders himself to man up. He is an _Uchiha._ And he must take the lead, here. He fiercely tells himself that as much as it is his wife’s duty to satisfy him physically, it is also _his_ responsibility to tend to her needs, also.

His hands, which had hesitated before, slide up to her covered elbows. He takes the first step, and bends his head forward.

Sakura releases a disjointed breath at the feel of the tip of his aristocratic nose following the graceful curve between her neck and left shoulder. He nuzzles her, inhaling her scent deeply, but the innocence of the touch is enough to elicit tiny tingles regardless.

“Sasuke-kun,” she whispers, as he quickly grows bolder, and his arms slip around her midriff, to draw her snugly back against him.

His lips brush over the sensitive skin of her throat. Sasuke has discovered that he has a strange affinity for her creamy neck; that he likes to pay it particular attention. He thinks that surely it has something to do with the desperate need to permanently erase the haunting image of his past self’s treacherous fingers squeezing crushingly around her windpipe. He wishes to kiss her there, until he somehow forgets the nightmarish memory of his insanity-induced attempt to kill her, back then. Even when he knows that he never can – despite her already forgiving him long ago.

Sakura sighs, closing her eyes, willing her wild pulse to settle as Sasuke’s lips caress her skin with a tenderness that he hides from the rest of the world – a tenderness that is disarming, as he leaves a trail of cool little raindrop kisses that summon blazing heat in their wake. This is it, she tells herself; this is the start of her initiation into womanhood. She still somehow half expects to awaken from this dream-like fantasy; has to fight to regulate her breathing.

This is the night her heart has been yearning for - spent in the arms of the man she loves more than anything else in the world.  

But she fears for the intensity of her emotions, already so overcome, when they are both still fully clothed. Her heart pounds harder still, when Sasuke’s hands move to tug demandingly at the sash around her waist and remove the first, heavy layer of her elaborately-layered wedding kimono. His unsteady fingers fumble sometimes, and Sakura has to help him, giggling with coy, girlish embarrassment. Before she knows it, however, she is left only in the final silk under layer.

Sasuke then turns her around to face him. He handles her with painstaking caution – as if fearful that applying any pressure will break her, like she is made of the very same glass he knows she can effortlessly shatter. Their eyes meet, and Sakura feels breathless as his piercing charcoal irises smoulder into her, catching the silver of the moonlight behind them. There is clear intent in his heavy gaze – yet she thinks she can perhaps see the same flicker of uncertainty that plagues her, also, as he takes her hands in his and reels her slowly away from the patio view and back toward their marital bed, his eyes never once leaving hers.

Biting her lower lip shyly, Sakura reaches out to him, proceeding to undress him also. Her hands are visibly shaking, and he has to help her in places, too. When the top of his formal attire is finally cast aside, and he stands before her, all rippling, taut muscles and steely masculinity, she swallows thickly, her lips suddenly oddly dry. Her work in the hospital means she is no stranger to topless men – but this is _Sasuke,_ and now they are alone.

Her eyes wander admiringly over his broad shoulders, his lean, smoothly muscled arms, the strongly sculpted plains of his bare chest and the defined ridges of his abdomen. She sees the many battle scars, some faded more than others, and she thinks their imperfections only make him even more beautiful, like artistic maps carved upon his skin, each mark representing a different struggle, its own unique story.

To think, that this glorious body is now all hers and hers alone…

Sakura licks her lips. “Sasuke-kun,” her voice wobbles precariously to her horror, and she can _feel_ the inferno raging in her cheeks. She has the urge to slide her palms all over those mouth-watering pectorals, but she is all at once pitifully flustered, and frozen by the sight of him. “Ah- I-”

He can see her nervousness all too clearly. This simply will not do, he tells himself, his eyebrows furrowing marginally, for her to be so tense. Trust Sakura to be so _annoying._ Clearly she requires some additional _encouragement_. Deciding to do something about it, he grasps her right wrist in his newly-replaced left hand – still healing and tightly bandaged up to the elbow – and pulls her close. Then, before she can babble anything else incoherent, he bends his head down and presses his parted lips lightly against hers.

Sakura’s eyes widen and the air in her lungs hitches. Of course she has been kissed by Sasuke before – multiple times, in fact – but each time sparks fly and it still feels like the very first. Butterflies break free inside her stomach, wings tickling and fluttering in agitation, and warmth floods through her. His right arm slips around her waist, and tugs her forward so that she is pressed against the nakedness of his upper body. She finally closes her eyes and her heart thunders against her rib-cage, as she tentatively lifts her hands to his bare skin, fingers gliding, seeking, exploring. His heat singes her, and once she has touched him, Sakura seems unable to stop.

The kiss is slow and chaste to begin with, and makes Sakura’s insides quiver. Then it quickly grows into something more volatile, full of frightening desperation and raw, ravenous _need._ A depth of hunger that leaves them both breathless. Sakura’s arms wrap around his neck and the slanting pressure of his lips on hers increases as the kiss hardens and deepens. Soon it is fiery and bruising, and Sakura’s head is reeling from the lack of oxygen. She can feel Sasuke’s chest heaving as he crushes her against him.

They stumble sightlessly backwards, toppling onto the bed, and somehow she lands on top of him. Sasuke is certain that his heart has never before drummed this hard or fast, and there is an aching, heavy throb developing between his legs. Sakura is straddling his waist, and it is peculiarly starting to become increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything else but her, as he looks up at her charmingly flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips.

He thinks that he maybe likes the sight of her, on top of him.

Instinct and desire seem to override Sakura’s nerves, then, as she gazes down at him, as if entranced. Her palms slide slowly, experimentally, over his rock-hard abdomen, to the steely pectoral muscles she had been itching to caress just minutes earlier, and with the tantalising, teasing motion, the throb inside him intensifies. When she leans forward to trail sweet butterfly kisses along his collarbone, he swallows thickly. Sakura’s mouth continues to explore his chest, and she giggles a little against his skin, with the shyness of touching him in newfound, bold places.

When she finally draws back, her hands flat against his toned stomach, she smiles down at him.

“Am I heavy, Sasuke-kun?” she teases, referencing a long ago, childhood memory.   

Sasuke blinks at her; he remembers it immediately.

“Hn,” he scoffs, smirking; for all her famed strength, she is now a mere feather when he holds her in his arms. Then he reaches out to yank her eagerly forward, capturing her lips hungrily once again. His hands wade into her prettily arranged, pale rose hair, and he starts to pull out the decorative pins and blasted accessories that keep her silky locks prisoner from his seeking touch. He feels them snag in resistance in his haste, and this causes Sakura to whimper in half-hearted protest against his mouth, but soon he can feel no more obstructions, and her fine tresses tumble free between his fingers – though only his bare right hand can fully appreciate their softness.

Her hands cup his face, stroking tenderly, and suddenly the remaining clothes between them seem to be an awful hindrance. She wants to feel the scorching heat of his skin, to experience those coiled muscles tensing against her.

“Sasuke-kun,” she gasps into the dimness, as she briefly draws back for a breath. “I-”

“Be quiet,” he mutters back, too distracted by the sweet curve of her jawline to concentrate on what she wants to say or waste precious air on words. Before she can respond, he moves lightning fast and effortlessly flips their positions, pinning her down beneath him. Then his lips are on her throat again - and so is his hot tongue. It devours the column of her neck, and he clamps his lips over her skin, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. He wants to brand her all over her. He alternates between this and directing a sizzling trail of impassioned kisses that prompt Sakura to release the sort of sound that would surely make even Ino blush.

A pleading, soft moan. And it is like a detonation exploding inside Sasuke’s ears – an enticing musical symphony that makes his heart gallop faster still. He wants to hear it again. He wants her to say his name like that. Sakura bites her lower lip, as if ashamed of the noise – but he simply smirks down at her, letting her know that he likes it. _Very much._

She wriggles beneath his weight, and he succeeds in removing the final layer of her wedding kimono, leaving his bride in only her lacy undergarments. His hands quickly make short work of discarding those too, as his lips continue to distract her, hovering over her jawline, to her face, where he proceeds to kiss her burning cheeks, her little button nose, her forehead, her right earlobe. Sakura protests at this teasing and pulls his mouth back demandingly to hers. His weight crushes down upon her, and the increased skin to skin contact causes a foreign tingling sensation to kindle inside her lower belly.

Sasuke draws briefly back to allow them both the chance to fill their deprived lungs with much needed oxygen. She is already breathless and flushed; her eyes are heavy-lidded with passion and desire. He doesn’t think he has ever seen anything more beautiful in his life, and he feels a sense of masculine pride and accomplishment, knowing that _he_ is the one getting her all flustered.

His dark eyes lower to appreciatively take in the soft swell of her breasts. It then strikes Sakura that she is completely naked; she had been so diverted by his kisses before, and he had removed her underwear so swiftly, that she hadn’t even really paid it much thought. Almost instinctively, she begins to raise her arms self-consciously over her chest, fearful that he will think her not ample enough or up to his standards.

Her husband, however, stops her, gripping her wrists firmly to prevent her from concealing his view.

“Don’t,” he murmurs. He does not want her to hide any part of her from his eyes.

Shyly, she allows him to press her arms back down against the mattress. He is silent, baffled by how she could possibly be ashamed of her beautiful body, as he greedily drinks up the sight of her petite, feminine form, his gaze roaming over her creamy breasts, her flat, toned stomach – and finally settling on the triangle of soft pink curls between her legs.

His breath hitches. The desire inside him now is near crippling, the heat unbearable as he feels his manhood stir beneath the lower robes he has still yet to remove.

Sasuke knows what he wants. Natural instinct dictates it to him - the need to claim her at last as his, to bury himself deep inside her hot core, to empty himself into her until they are both breathless and spent.

“S-Sasuke-kun,” her voice shakes, and this catches him off guard. His eyes dart back to her face, to find unexpected tears shining in her verdant irises. She suddenly looks so vulnerable. So slight. Unsettled and put out by this, he raises his right hand to her flushed left cheek, where she can feel his fingertips brushing over her skin.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, silently worrying that he is maybe moving too fast for her, or somehow doing something incorrectly.

She bites her quivering lower lip. Swallows back the thickness in her throat, before she chokes out emotionally, unable to hold back her insecurities any longer, “I- I love you, Sasuke-kun! I love you so much! And I want to make you happy, but-” she squeezes her eyes shut, and confesses, “I don’t want to disappoint you. I-!” She breaks off, when he abruptly taps the diamond yin seal on her forehead with his index and middle fingers, a familiar gesture of affection between them that seeks to calm her down.

He meets her gaze, holds it steady.

“Just relax,” he attempts to reassure her – only for one corner of his mouth to turn down at the sight of her eyes welling with tears. Then they are spilling, and Sasuke curses himself internally.

Always, he makes her cry. Even now. He never knows the right thing to say-

Frustrated, he lowers his lips to her cheeks, kissing away the tears. The unexpected gentleness of this touch only makes their volume increase. Sakura wraps her arms around his neck in happiness, yanks him down to her, and silences her sobs against his shoulder.

Misinterpreting this as genuine upset and even more disturbed by the feel of her trembling beneath him, Sasuke realises that she must be afraid, and suggests, with great restraint, “Sakura, I-” he swallows. “We can stop.”

“No,” her muffled voice answers. “No, Sasuke-kun- it’s just-” in a barely audible whisper, she admits, “This is my first time. I…” she laughs a little in embarrassment. “I waited for you.”

He exhales in understanding. Then he pulls back, stares at her. He wants to tell her this is his first time, too, but she is already reaching out to him again. He bends his head to kiss her more gently. And like a flower, he feels her open up beneath him, her lips parting, her body gradually relaxing once again.

He had always imagined that Sakura would remain faithful to him, but to hear her openly confirm it fills him with a rush of warmth that is almost overwhelming. Sasuke tells himself that he will not give himself relief before he pleasures her – before she is ready to receive him. His mouth moves from hers, to her throat once again, before lowering to explore the valley between her breasts. But he falters before he touches her there, suddenly strangely hesitant again.

He glances up at her. She seems to understand, too, for she takes his right hand, and shyly guides it to where she wants him to touch her. He cups her left breast, marvelling at its silky softness and weight. Then he begins to massage it, prompting a little whimper to escape Sakura’s lips as he kneads it gently, before rolling her nipple experimentally between his index finger and thumb.

This causes her to stiffen in surprise. He looks up at her again, to find her eyes are closed. The air escaping her mouth is growing shallow and quick. She enjoys being touched like this, he notes with satisfaction, storing it in mind for future reference, and does it again, prompting the same pleasurable reaction. Her moan is even louder, when he lowers his parted lips to the mound, swirling his rough tongue around its sensitive, aroused bud before taking it completely into his mouth, sucking gently.

“Ohhh,” her back arches, as his left hand moves to stimulate the unoccupied breast that is not receiving worship from his tongue. “Sasuke-kun…” she groans, as she reaches out to his head with a hand, fisting her fingers through his fine raven hair.

These new, unfamiliar sensations - they feel _so_ good. Her inner self boasts that of course they do; Sasuke-kun had _always_ been remarkably proficient with his hands. Who could have known, however, that his tongue would turn out equally as delightful? But she can’t think coherently enough to communicate this to him, while his mouth is doing such tantalising things to her.

The sound of his name falling so huskily from her lips spurns him onwards, encourages him to continue, sends him on a quest to elicit even more. He wants her to be more vocal. Because surely the louder she becomes, the better he is performing.

And as with everything else he does, Sasuke has to be the very best.

He then turns his focus to the other breast, sucking and fondling and caressing, before growing even bolder, directing a trail of feather-light kisses along her abdomen. Sakura is now almost panting with need and the heat in her lower belly intensifies. It is radiating to the unchartered territory between her legs, centralising as a throbbing ache that demands urgent attention. She squeaks in alarm as he ventures lower, his hair tickling her skin as he teases her pelvic bone, before brushing his lips over her inner thighs.

She gulps, jerking in startled surprise, when they drift a little _too_ close to her womanly core. She does not expect Sasuke to be this daring during their first time – but clearly he has no issues with intimacy of this degree, for his bandaged left hand presses firmly down against her abdomen to keep her in place, while his right parts her thighs to allow him better access.

“Sasuke-kun!” she yelps, her cheeks burning as she scrambles to push herself up onto her elbows. “No- wait. Please!” 

Her reaction is interesting, and so is the increased tension he detects in her body. Sasuke flicks a heavy-lidded glance up at her, and gives her a smug smirk, so utterly _devious_ and sexy that her heart jumps into her throat. Something tells him that he has her now. She gapes at him – and when he disregards her half-hearted plea and runs an index finger experimentally over her inner folds, he is rewarded with the sight of his wife biting down on her lower lip – _hard_ \- as her eyebrows furrow together.

He strokes her tantalisingly again, and she releases a strangled sound. He watches her face curiously, intently, using the cues he is receiving from her body to discover which spots excite her most. Her expression is caught somewhere between the blurred boundaries of embarrassment and eagerness. Sakura clearly likes the feeling – but obviously thinks his mouth shouldn’t be anywhere near _down there._

It is almost enough to draw a chuckle of amusement from him. She is his. He can touch her wherever he pleases, using any part of his body he likes. And if this area is what flusters her most, then Sasuke tells himself that he will just have to pay it special, _particular_ attention.

He parts her folds, finding the small bud of her clitoris. Sakura releases another choked sound when he brushes his index finger over it.

“Sasuke-kun-!” she manages through tightly clenched teeth. “Please-!” The sensation his touch is eliciting is positively sinful, a tingling burn that is steadily growing into a force so unstoppable, it leaves Sakura’s head spinning _._ When his thumb begins to stimulate the sensitive spot further in a slow, steady, circular motion, she rewards him with her loudest moan yet, clutching almost painfully onto the sheets underneath her.

“Ahhn! Sasuke-kun!”

He immediately responds to her vocal feedback, his pace and rhythm quickening. The musky scent of her turns him on, and he can feel her growing moister under his touch. It is the most incredibly arousing sight he has ever seen; Sakura, all hot and bothered and sexually excited before him.

And loving her like this, giving her pleasure; it feels so very _right._

Panting, she glances down to watch him through half-lidded eyes, before her elbows give out, sending her collapsing fully onto the bed once again. She turns her head, and tries desperately to muffle the sinful sounds in her throat – sounds she did not even realise she could make – by pressing her mouth against one of the scattered pillows beside her.

Sasuke’s eyes narrow disapprovingly. He will have none of that. Keeping his right hand working in its position, he lifts himself up over her and leans forward, catching her chin with his fingers. Angling her face back toward him, he meets her pleasure hazed gaze directly.

“I want to hear you,” he tells her, and quickens the circular motion of his thumb even further, as if to punish her for even attempting to deny him of the lustful exclamations leaving her lips.

Sakura’s back arches in response, her head falls back, and she rapidly loses the will to swallow back her moans any more. Any previous embarrassment is replaced entirely by pure, selfish lust as the tingles rapidly grow in intensity. “Ahhh!” she whimpers. “Oh! Yes! Right there, Sasuke-kun! Ohhh!”

His eyes fix onto her face in wonder. Suddenly, he cannot look away. When she lifts her hands to clutch frantically at her breasts, his breathing becomes more laborious. He can feel the searing heat between his legs growing underneath his robes, throbbing for the same attentions he is giving to her. And suddenly his thumb against her growing slickness is not enough. He wants to _taste_ her. Sakura gasps when, without warning, he replaces his hand with his tongue, swirling hotly around her bundle of nerves.

“Ahhnn!” she cries out, the tension in her lower belly, tightening and coiling until it becomes near unbearable, verging on the sweet agony that accompanies pre-release. Sasuke is ruthless, and does not relent. The blood rushes in his ears and each and every one of Sakura’s throaty, sexy moans urge him to quicken his movements, to bring her to the very edge of the explosive summit she is rapidly climbing.

“Ahhhh! Sasuke-kun! Oh, God! Yes. _Yes!_ I’m-! I- ahhhh!” Her hips begin to buck on instinct, pushing her clit more firmly up against his ravenous mouth.

Sasuke holds her down more firmly, and rewards her yearning pleas by applying more pressure and sucking harder, and she momentarily stiffens, then cries out his name as the constricting coil inside her abruptly snaps, sending wave after wave of rhythmic pleasure coursing through her.

“Sasuke-kuuun!”   

It is a feeling unlike anything she has ever experienced, and Sakura’s head falls back as her entire body arches upwards, arms splaying as the euphoric sensation washes over her. Her heart is thundering at an unnatural pace that will surely induce some form of cardiac arrest, but she can’t focus on that, can only _feel_ the pure ecstasy he has given to her.

He presses her abdomen down, preventing her from trying to jerk her hips away, forcing her to ride out the remainder of her climax before his eyes as he finally pulls back to find a trail of liquid leaking from the opening of her virginal entrance. She has loosened up and relaxed completely, is wet and ready for him.

Self-satisfaction and masculine pride swell inside his chest once more, as a smug Sasuke acknowledges that he has given Sakura her first orgasm. And she seems to have thoroughly enjoyed it, too.

And suddenly, now that he has given his wife her release, Sasuke finds that he can no longer hold back the need for his own.

She remains there for a minute, heart racing, trying to gulp down air, stares dizzily up at the high ceiling above them as she struggles to catch her breath, the after-glow of her first climax lingering deliciously. Her mind is blown, and her entire body feels warm and wonderful.

Tsunade-shishou had slyly teased her about the Uchiha being famed lovers, possessing a stamina that was uncommon. She begins to think she might understand the reputation, for she and Sasuke have not really even begun, and for him to pleasure her already like this first, even before he had entered her-

“Sakura-” he utters thickly, his own heart hammering against his rib-cage. It is all at once senseless and consuming, how terribly his body desires their union. He cannot fathom how he has gone so long without this physical closeness with her. Still panting, Sakura understands, and reaches for him, nodding. He has melted away her tension, made her feel at ease. It is now her turn.

She wants to give him the same pleasure he has given to her.

She lifts herself off the bed and leans forward, pressing a palm to his strong chest to push him back down onto the mattress. Sasuke is internally pleased by her increased boldness, and complies. Then she climbs onto him and straddles his hips. She bites her lip and experimentally begins to rub her wet core against the growing hardness she can feel underneath his lower robes.

"Sasuke-kun," she breathes. "Is this- is this okay?"

It is more than that. Sasuke only manages a terse nod. He is too diverted by the pleasurable feeling of her gyrating down on him to verbally respond.

Just as he had watched her responses before, Sakura now watches him closely also, using every visible cue her eyes can detect to pleasure him. Her breath catches in her throat when she sees the way his jaw clenches tightly as he watches her, and his features contort slightly, as if in pain. Sakura’s heart soars at this encouragement and she is eager to bring out more new expressions. She soon finds a steady rhythm, and grinds backwards and forwards against him, breasts bouncing, which drives Sasuke near wild. He reaches out, runs his hands over her silky upper thighs. She is driving him _crazy._ He _needs_ to be inside her soon. The ache in his groin is near agonising, now, and Sasuke isn’t sure how much longer he can hold back.

The friction begins to stimulate Sakura once more, too, and she throws her head back as she rocks against him, eager to reach the heights of ecstasy again.

"Haah…" she exhales, closing her eyes as she quickens her movements.

But Sasuke, now fully aroused, can wait no more. In one swift, predatory movement that knocks a surprised Sakura off her newfound perch, he shoves her off him.

“…!” She barely manages to snag a breath before his lips crash down against hers, while his hands move to hastily unfasten and discard his lower garments.

“Sakura,” he whispers; the strain inside him all too evident in the creases on his forehead. “I can’t,” he speaks through clenched teeth, “-hold back- anymore-!”

She nods breathlessly, and as he places his elbows on either side of her head and lowers his body to position himself between her parted legs, she laces her fingers with his.

She squeezes tightly, her eyes wide and brimming with tears of another kind. _Happiness,_ he realises, and is so moved by the pure and ardent _love_ shining in her eyes as she gazes up at him in that moment, that it is enough to render him speechless. He lowers his head, touching his forehead to hers as he exercises every last shred of restraint he possesses to wait for her signal, his heart a frantic drum.

She seems to understand how much this means to him, for it is she who whispers to him lovingly, “I’m ready now, Sasuke-kun.”

The hardness of his length prods her slick opening. Sakura gulps as she anticipates the inevitable discomfort that will accompany their two bodies becoming one at last. But this time, she is fully prepared for it.

Sasuke bites his lower lip – and then nature takes its course.

Her breath hitches in her throat as he penetrates her in one swift, forceful thrust and drowns his groan into the crook of her neck. Then she is gasping at the sheer, unexpected fullness of him, of his agonising thickness and length - the way he seems to stretch her walls so completely, to way beyond their limits.

“Ah!” she cannot help but cry out, overcome by the sharp, stinging, burning pain, but Sasuke is quick to silence her with bruising kisses, as he pins her arms above her head. They help to distract Sakura enough as he fights against his raging desire, and remains completely still within her, waiting for her to acclimatise to him. It is a few minutes before he dares to move again, sliding slowly out of her, gritting his teeth as he does so.

His eyes briefly close, eyebrows furrowing. _Fuck._ She is so incredibly _tight_. Her heat surrounds him to his hilt like a molten sheath, and he does not think he can stand the delicious friction. The sensation is divine, like no other he has ever known, and he worries that he cannot hold back, that he will hurt her if he goes too hard and too fast, in the way his body is urging and _begging_ him to do.

Gentle. He has to be gentle, he reminds himself. But the heat is unbearable, and all he wants is to dominate her completely-

Sakura moans, eyes closing as he eases back in carefully, pushing as far as he can, as deeply as her cavern can take.

“Sakura,” his dark eyes check on her, as he struggles to regulate his own breathing.

“I’m fine,” she gasps, and he finally releases her hands to caress her face, wiping at the tears that had spilt when he had initially entered her. She opens her eyes and offers him an unsteady smile. “Really, Sasuke-kun,” she reassures. “I’m- haah,” she huffs, expertly channelling healing chakra to the source of pain. Immediately it helps, reducing the worst of it to a dull ache. “I’m fine,” she says again, encouraging him to continue.

He nods, and gingerly resumes. And being inside her feels so _good,_ he does not understand _how_ he has gone for so long without knowing such intimate pleasure. He senselessly thinks he ought to have married her right after the war, for he does not think he can now ever get enough. Sasuke half-fears for what this will mean - what it will do to them both – for a passion this dangerous will surely set them both aflame – but he cannot bring himself to worry for it, then. For the first time in his life, his body completely overrides the wishes of his mind as it pursues one thing and one thing alone.

He bites down on his tongue, fighting against the groan that begs to fly free from his throat as he plunges in and out of her, his movements slow, inexperienced and disjointed at first, but he has always been a fast learner, and when he is certain that Sakura’s discomfort has waned, he soon gains a steady rhythm.

Their slick bodies slap against each another as he drives into her with increasing force, causing the mattress beneath them to creak against its bedframe.

Sakura’s soft hands are then in his hair, tender and adoring, and she whispers that she loves him again as she wipes the perspiration from his brow. Sasuke knows this truth, has never doubted it since they were twelve, and responds, plunging faster and harder into her until she begins to whimper once again with renewed need. Every thrust drives him closer to the edge, increasing the torturous friction between them until he feels himself rapidly climbing to his peak.

He hisses her name, overwhelmed by the tantalising way her walls clench around his length. He can feel himself getting closer and closer to release, and suddenly she is all he can see, all he can feel, all he can think about. There is only her in the world, and _nothing_ else.

“ _Sakura-_ ”

Her fingers are now roaming over his chest, gripping onto his strong shoulders. The dull pain is all but forgotten as the familiar, burning tingle returns and overrides everything else, roaring to life like a furnace blazing into being inside her lower belly. The weight of him above her, the feel of his muscles tightening with strain against her makes Sakura writhe beneath him.

“Unh!” she cries out as he picks up further speed, slamming into her with something akin to near-desperation. “Ah! Sa-su-ke-ku-un!” she moans his name pleadingly, her words punctuated by his forceful thrusts. The tantalising feel of his thick, throbbing cock as it ploughs deeply and relentlessly into her is driving her to disorientation. “Ah! Ah! Ah!” 

The heat and friction are now excruciating. A delirious Sasuke feels like he is losing his mind at the sight and sound of her writhing and moaning under him, and kisses her deeply to swallow back his own groans. Almost angrily, he plunges his tongue ravenously into her mouth, teeth nipping and biting as his hands move to squeeze her breasts. Her tongue dances against his. clashing for dominance, and she wraps her arms tightly around his neck, yanking him closer. Her legs lift to hook around his waist, increasing the slant and friction between them further. Sasuke grunts with effort as he continues to pound almost mercilessly into her, and feels as though he is being swept along by the irrepressible tides of tempestuous passion. He cannot fight against the force, can only drown with her, into her. She is the only thing that anchors him, his only hope of salvation.

He _needs_ her. At that moment, Sasuke needs her so much, so desperately and so wretchedly, that it steals his breath away.

Sakura’s toes curl and her nails claw down the skin of his back with a force that she is certain will leave angry red marks. But he doesn’t care. It simply heightens the exhilarating sensations coursing through him.

“Khh!” he releases an incoherent, strangled sound, informing her that he is close. _So, so close_. But he does not want to reach his climax alone. He wants her to orgasm before him, again, is absolutely adamant that she will – and shoves a hand down to her clit again. He rubs at it, his rhythm irregular, frantic and distracted – but the extra stimulation is enough to send her crashing over the edge again.

“Ahhhn!” she screams, nails digging into him like sharp talons. “Sasuke-kuuun! Yes! Yes! _Yes!_ ”

And as her walls contract tightly and rhythmically around him, Sasuke finally reaches his peak right after her. The pressure and tantalising tension coiling inside him overflow to boiling point and erupt as his hot seed empties into her, and pure pleasure unlike anything he could ever have imagined tears like a riptide through every inch of his body. He is unable to stop the guttural groan from escaping his throat, and is carried through the waves of bliss by the delectable sound of Sakura crying out his name, over and over again. It is an extreme adrenaline rush, an incomparable euphoric high that sends his soul soaring, makes his throat close over with a depth of emotion wholly alien to him.

It is enough to leave him quivering inside.

His movements become more disjointed as he rides out the last, lingering remains of his orgasm, panting heavily against Sakura’s sticky neck. She holds him, stroking his hair as he begins to descend from the heavenly heights of pleasure. Sasuke gives her one final, deep, tantalisingly slow thrust – then collapses and grows still against her, remaining deeply embedded inside her heated core.

For a long time, they are quiet, the silence between them broken only by the sound of their heavy breathing. Sasuke feels a sense of warmth, peace and fulfilment that he has never experienced before, lying there in her arms, his ear pressed against her left breast, where he can hear the soothing sound of her heartbeat as it gradually slows to its regular, resting rhythm.

It is not long before his eyelids grow heavy, and he tries to fight it, because there is something he wants to say to her, but his mind seems to have abandoned him entirely, for his thoughts are scattered and clouded, and even speaking seems to require too much energy.

“I love you, Sasuke-kun,” she whispers into the darkness, a lullaby that lulls him into the blissful arms of sleep.

But her voice is enough to trigger a final, valiant fight for remembrance inside his head, and he mumbles her name and what he thinks it was he wanted to say, uncertain whether he really manages to articulate it at all as slumber finally takes him.

Sakura’s eyes pool with tears of contentment and her heart is ready to burst from happiness as she stares up at the ceiling, when his drowsy, but unmistakeable words reach her ears.  

_“Sakura. Thank you.”_


	2. His Only

**His Only**

* * *

_**Scenario:** Sasuke returns home to Sarada and Sakura after a four month long mission in Mist Village. _

* * *

Five year old Uchiha Sarada perches impatiently upon the final step of the wooden staircase. Her soft dark hair has been perfectly smoothed down by her mama’s skilled hands, and there isn’t a single crease on her cardigan or skirt. She looks prim, smart and tidy, perfectly reflecting the wealth of the prestigious clan into which she has been born. Her small glasses sit firmly upon the bridge of her tiny nose, and her school bag rests by her feet. There is a book in her lap, but she cannot seem to focus much on it. Her eyes are far too preoccupied, at that moment, by the ticking clock on the wall.

That foolish classmate of hers _Boruto_ is running late, and she is half out of her mind with worry that his tardiness will result in a blemish on her impeccable academic record. She is always the first one into class every morning. She dreads to imagine what Aburame-sensei will say if she strolls in once lessons have already started. The apprehensive thought is enough to make her feel sick.

She isn’t happy at all that stupid Boruto has to be the one to pick her up. It was a punishment given to him for his relentless teasing; to make up for bothering Sarada so much every day at school, he has been strictly instructed by their tutors – and his parents - to walk with her to the Academy every morning, in an attempt to encourage the ever-bickering two to get along.

Well, Sarada thinks to herself; it is more accurately the case that _he_ pesters her. She is usually far above his verbal taunts and imperturbably ignores him most of the time. Rather than get caught up in his mischief, she prefers, instead, to keep a disapproving eye on his clownish antics from a stealthy, safe distance.

The Seventh Hokage’s son is commonly known as ‘Bolt’. _Bolt?_ Sarada thinks to herself in disdain, her intelligent mind focusing on one particular meaning of the word. She thinks _snail_ is a much more fitting name for a prank-loving loser who can never seem to make it anywhere on time.

This sanction is due to last for the entire week, and he is already five minutes late on his first day. Sarada shouts out to her mother in agitation, ready to throw one of her famed strops – which are strictly reserved for home, of course.

“Mama!” she whines. “Stupid Bolt’s late! Aburame-sensei will be mad!”

“You’ve still got time,” her mama’s sweet, melodic voice calls back from the kitchen, where she is fixing herself lunch for her late-start shift at the hospital. “Give him a few more minutes, sweetie!”

“But what if he does this all week?” Sarada frets. “He’s always trying to get me into trouble!”

“He’ll be here soon, Sara-chan!” Her mother reassures her.

Sarada pouts, closes her book, props her elbow upon it and then rests her chin petulantly on her right hand. This is _so_ unfair! She doesn’t even understand why her mama will not let her walk to school on her own. Sarada believes she is certainly sensible and old enough to make it to the Academy gates safely. She spends a few more minutes sulking unhappily, her narrowed, charcoal eyes glaring at the clock once more.  

Then her ears perk up at the sound of movement beyond the screen doors opposite the staircase. Finally, the idiot has decided to show up! She immediately straightens, and is about to grab her school bag – when the doors slide open, revealing a tall, imposing figure, wrapped in a long black cloak.

Sarada’s eyes widen, and her jaw slackens in disbelief, her defences all at once lowered.

Her papa smirks down at her – a smirk she absolutely _adores_ and does her very best to imitate whenever she is alone with the bathroom mirror – then he raises an index finger to his lips, signalling that his arrival is strictly their little secret for now and her mama must not know.

She gasps. Her grumpiness is instantly forgotten and her heart swells joyously inside her chest at the unexpected sight of her father. Without hesitation, she launches herself at him like a tiny canon-ball, just as he has removed the navy satchel bag from across his chest. Sasuke catches her in his strong arms and hoists her up into the air like she weighs little more than a feather.

Sarada’s small arms wrap tightly around his neck, and she smiles into his shoulder as she breathes him in. He smells like a pleasing mixture of mist and rain, wood-smoke and soap; the reassuring scent of her papa. He hugs her close, closing his eyes as he momentarily loses himself in the incomparable peace of holding his precious, only child in his arms for the first time in four long months.

“Sarada,” he murmurs. His lips, relaxed from their usual, unyielding line, are on top of her head, brushing affectionately over her hair as he nuzzles her.

“Papa,” her voice is muffled against him. “Are you really back?”

“I’m back,” he assures her quietly.   

Her grip on him tightens further. “I missed you,” she sniffs.

“I know,” his tone is almost apologetic, now.

“I mean,” she is hasty to amend indignantly, eager to show him how strong and grown up she is, “Only a little.” Then she demands, “Did you miss me?”

She feels his lips curve into another small smile on top of her head. “A little.”

“Papa!” she scowls, pulling back to look up into his face. Sasuke sees the reflection of himself in her expression, and his smirk widens.

“A lot,” he reluctantly concedes. This pleases his little princess, and she reaches out to plant a wet kiss on his cheek.

“Did you get me something?” Sarada asks, trying her best not to sound too eager or hopeful.

“Hn. Maybe,” Sasuke replies cryptically. “But later; you’ve got school.”

This reminds Sarada that she is _very_ late now, and she complains to him, “Papa! Stupid Bolt is supposed to be picking me up, but he’s _late!”_

Sasuke’s eyebrows furrow together in mild confusion. Why is Naruto’s _son_ walking his child to school? When he questions his daughter, and receives the story behind the sanction, he sighs lightly in annoyance.

The little brat is certainly the dobe’s offspring. He thinks that maybe he needs to bypass Sakura’s past requests to let the children be children and have a direct word with the troublemaking squirt. This ‘ _Bolt’_ is obviously giving his princess a headache, and Sasuke will not accept this from anyone – even his best friend’s son.

“I’ll talk to him,” he promises his child, who hugs him again for that. Then he asks in a low voice, for he is eager to see his wife, “Where is your mother?”

“In the kitchen,” Sarada smiles a small, scheming, smug smile that mirrors her father’s as she fiddles with the front buttons of his white shirt. “Shall we sneak up on her like last time, Papa?” she whispers.

Sasuke entertains this thoroughly attractive proposition; Sakura had been on her hands and knees the last time they’d teamed up together to surprise her, retrieving something from underneath the table and providing him with a delightful view of her cute rear - but his highly trained ears then pick up on the near-silent footsteps that are already padding down the hallway towards them, and he knows he will have no such luck this time.

“As _if_ that’d work again,” Sakura’s light, amused voice reaches them as she joins her husband and child in the front entrance space of their home. But her stomach is fluttering in the manner it always does when she sees Sasuke again after even the shortest of absences. He curiously seems to grow even handsomer every time she looks upon him, and she wonders how this can even be possible.

Sasuke’s heart skips a beat, too, as his eyes, completely starved of seeing his wife, drink in the welcome sight of her.

She is dressed in a zipped red top and a navy blue skirt that grazes her knees. Her hair is pulled back into a pony-tail that seems to have grown slightly longer than it had been when he’d last seen her. She looks good, Sasuke thinks to himself appreciatively – but then, she has always been nothing but beautiful in his eyes.

Still holding Sarada firmly against him with his left arm, he wordlessly extends his right to his wife. Sakura does not hesitate to move forward as she eagerly accepts his embrace, pressing the warmth and softness of her body – which Sasuke has missed so terribly – against his side.

“Welcome home, Sasuke-kun,” she whispers into his right ear, pressing a tender – and it feels, to him, far too fleeting - kiss against his lobe.

Sarada feels her chest bloom with happiness when she witnesses the way her papa’s dark eyes visibly soften as he holds her mama close, turning his head slightly toward Sakura. She is filled with contentment, seeing her parents together once more, as she rests her head against her papa’s shoulder. Their family is united again – at least, until the next mission her Uncle Naruto assigns to her father.

Sasuke holds his beloved girls – his dearest treasures - in his arms, relishing this moment – for he has waited for it from the very first night he spent apart from them. They are his only purpose for living and he is a fulfilled man amongst them, complete.

At length, Sakura draws away slightly. “It’s good to have you back,” she smiles. “How was your mission?”

Sasuke’s arm, still looped around her waist, discreetly tightens. “Too long,” he replies, his voice nonchalant – but she catches the unspoken insinuation in his eyes as they linger on hers, and feels her heart skip.

He has missed her as much as she has missed him.

Sarada, who watches them with hawk-like eyes, picks up on this, but is still far too young to understand the silent exchange that is happening between her parents, and begins to frown because their attention is all of a sudden not directed solely at her.

Her mama is quick to rectify this, however, for she runs a loving hand over their daughter’s neatly combed hair.

“Sara-chan, did you tell your papa about your latest test scores last week?”

“Not yet,” Sarada answers. Her mother smiles at the shy flush she glimpses in her child’s cheeks. It is a rare sight that seems reserved particularly for her father’s approval, for she is always so very anxious to please him – although she does her best not to make that fact _too_ apparent.

“She came top of the class,” Sakura informs Sasuke, whose eyebrows lift slightly as he looks at his child again. He isn’t the least bit surprised. She had inherited the intelligence of both of her parents, after all.

He notes the way his daughter’s eyes dart up to him as she awaits his response. He doesn’t disappoint her, when his lips curve to form a proud smirk.

“Hn. That’s my daughter.”

“Heh heh,” Sarada releases a small, rare, childish giggle. Then she asks, pouting in that endearing manner of hers that lets him know she is somewhat embarrassed but is reluctant to concede it, “Papa? Will you…” she readjusts her glasses, “…pick me up from school today?”

Sakura feels her heart melt at the look of ecstatic joy in their daughter’s face when Sasuke nods. It is at that moment that a loud rap on the screen doors intrudes upon their long-awaited family reunion.

“That’s annoying Bolt!” Sarada exclaims, immediately wriggling for her father to put her down. She is unashamedly daddy’s girl in the privacy of her home – but outside, to the world, she is far too cool and independent for trifling cuddles.

 _Annoying?_ Sasuke peers down at her displeased face. His eyes then drift up to meet the amused gaze of his wife, who folds her arms and lifts a wry eyebrow at him, as if to question: _Now where have we heard that word before_?

He finally sets Sarada down and turns to the doors. As he slides them open, a boyish, obnoxious voice loudly begins, “Hey, you Book-Ner-”

When Bolt’s eyes meet Sarada’s father’s thunderous gaze, instead of the girl he loves to poke fun at, Naruto’s son pales considerably and he almost chokes in his haste to snatch back his intended _‘nerd’_ insult before it fully flies off his tongue.

“Errr…” he gulps, blinking up at Sasuke with wide blue eyes that are a carbon copy of the Seventh Hokage’s. “Hi,” he says, somewhat nervously. “Mr Uchiha and- err- Mrs Uchiha,” he nods with strained politeness at a smiling Sakura, while he shifts awkwardly on his feet.

Sarada smirks as she looks proudly up at her towering father. He can frighten the life out of even the bravest of shinobi when he directs one of his menacing, trade-mark glares. And she is quite sure that she has never seen Bolt look so rattled.

“Good morning, Bolt-kun,” Sakura greets kindly, taking pity on the little boy. He fondly reminds her of Naruto back in their genin days.

“Y-yeah, good morning,” Bolt rubs the back of his neck, squirming under the weight of Sasuke’s unflinching, heavy stare.

“You’re late,” Sasuke informs him curtly. There is an unspoken warning behind his words – that he will not excuse such unpunctuality again.

Sakura bites her lower lip, stifling back her chuckle. Even after so many years, Sasuke still possesses the effortless ability to instigate terror with a mere glance. She knows that if Naruto were present then, he’d doubtlessly pick another fight with her husband for daring to intimidate his first-born.

“Uh…” Bolt looks away, suddenly embarrassed. Sticking out his lower lip, he mumbles under his breath, just like Naruto used to do as a child, “…I got lost, dattebasa.”

“Stupid,” Sarada scoffs. She slings her bag onto her shoulder and lifts a hand to wave goodbye to her parents – clearly too cool to give them parting kisses in front of her classmate. She knows he will pull a face and take the opportunity to tease her, later. She is far too clever to give him the chance.

“You can explain yourself to Aburame-sensei,” she sniffs as she exits the house, turning her nose up haughtily into the air as she brushes past a red-faced Bolt, who hastily mutters something that vaguely resembles a goodbye to the Uchihas, before he turns and scrambles after her.

He does not dare to speak a word to Sarada as they hurry down the street, for he can practically feel her father’s eyes burning into his back watchfully.

By the doorway next to him, Sakura giggles in amusement at the cute sight and rests her head briefly just below his shoulder. “Do they remind you of anyone we know, Sasuke-kun?”

“Hn.” Sasuke releases a derisive snort. The resemblance is certainly uncanny – but it’s obvious to him that Sarada is already far superior to Boruto in every conceivable way.

“They’re growing up so fast,” his wife comments, before she releases a sigh and moves away from him to check the time on the wall clock again.

Sakura’s shift at the hospital officially starts at ten, a welcome change to her usual schedule of eight forty-five. But she also has a meeting before that with a new set of medic interns, scheduled for nine thirty, so she knows that she must soon be on her way. She is reluctant, however; Sasuke has only just arrived, and she would have liked to spend some quality alone time with him, first. She wonders how they can fit it in, with Sarada home in the evening and likely to demand all of their attention, as she usually and rightfully does.

Sasuke slides the doors shut. He wordlessly removes his sandals, and then his black cloak which he hangs onto the set of pegs beside the doorway. He leaves the bag by the door, tells himself that he will unpack their gifts later when Sarada returns from school and Sakura gets back from work.

There is only one thing that interests him at that moment. He turns and his full attention settles onto his lovely wife.

She meets his gaze, and the sheer weight of his stare is enough to make her heart quicken. There is no reason to suddenly feel shy, but with the way he is looking at her, so intently, Sakura suddenly feels ridiculously like a giddy little genin schoolgirl again. It is his eyes, she realises; both his sharingan and rinnegan are disengaged, and those endearing, midnight irises belong to the boy she fell so hopelessly in love with, so many years earlier.

Even though they have been married for years and had a child together, Sakura still feels like she is hopelessly drowning every time she looks into those bottomless pools of onyx.

He raises an eyebrow. She is staring openly at him. And he thinks that now that their daughter is safely out of the house and they are alone at last, his wife can give him a _proper_ welcome _._

Sakura giggles at his unspoken cue, and moves back to him. Her slender arms loop around his neck, and she rests her head against his chest, as Sasuke’s own wind tightly around her waist and he crushes her against him.

“I’ve missed you,” she murmurs.

He knows this, and the way his arms squeeze her silently lets her know that he has, too.

She closes her eyes, revelling in his warmth and solidarity, and catches her breath when he lowers his head and nestles his nose into the gentle crook of her neck, where he inhales deeply, absorbing the familiar, comforting scent of her. She smells of the ingrained memory of tangled limbs and bed-sheets, of warmth and love and _home._ He holds her like that for a long time, content to simply embrace her again.

“Did you submit your mission report already?” she asks at length.

She feels him nod. He had stopped by the Hokage’s Tower first as protocol dictated and informed Naruto that the storm damage which Kirigakure, the Hidden Mist Village, had recently suffered had been fully repaired. The mission scroll had specified that the rebuilding process would take approximately two months. Sasuke had ended up there for double that time – and he hadn’t been particularly pleased about being away from home for so long.

He anticipates where Sakura’s questioning is leading to, though, and he cannot blame her for worrying. He thinks he has spent far too much time apart from her and their child recently – which is precisely the reason why he had immediately refused the next mission scroll Naruto had offered to him, scheduled to begin the following week – much to the dobe’s protests that he was absolutely the best high-ranked shinobi in Konoha for the job.

When Sasuke had inflexibly refused to back down and reminded him that the last task had taken up double the specified time he’d agreed to when signing up to it, Naruto had finally conceded defeat and dismissed him, muttering that he supposed it was for the best that Sasuke took a bit of an extended break, because he didn’t exactly want Sakura-chan to beat him to a pulp for sending her husband away too often.

Sakura, as he predicted, seems to tense slightly in his hold, as she continues as casually as she can manage, “And… did he give you another mission?”

Sasuke answers flatly, “I refused.”

“Oh.” She draws back slightly to look up at him. He sees the relief wash over her sweet features. Then she presses, “Because it was low rank?”

He is silent for a long moment, his eyes holding hers. Then he says quietly, meaningfully, “Because I should be here.”

It is worth it, to see the happy blush bloom into her cheeks as he openly acknowledges the importance of dedicating time to her and their daughter after his extended absence. She smiles brilliantly, and it is like the sun, dismissing the darkness and casting glorious rays of warmth upon him.

Sasuke blinks at her. His right hand lifts to ghost over her left cheek – and then he cannot stop himself from bending his head down to kiss her.

His lips are warm and demanding. Sakura’s immediately part for him and she sighs gladly. His kiss is like the cool touch of rain after a scorching, unbearable drought. It fills her with its softness and quenches her parched mouth – but as it deepens and begins to harden and quicken, becoming more urgent, another type of irrepressible hunger begins to stir through her.

 _No,_ she scolds herself. She has to get to work. Now is not the time to succumb to the mindless passion his touches spark within her, no matter how badly her body wants it. However, her pulse is already quickening and she isn’t quite certain her husband will agree.

And she knows, from experience, that Sasuke can be surprisingly persuasive when he wants to be.

She breaks the kiss far too soon for Sasuke’s liking, and pushes against his chest for him to release her. He does so with great reluctance, but his gaze, tracking her movements as she starts toward the kitchen, is all smoke and flame.

What the _hell_? Was that teasing, far too brief little meeting of lips really all she intends to give to him? Sasuke doesn’t think she is getting away so easily.

“Have you had breakfast, Sasuke-kun?” Sakura hopes to divert the focus of his attention as she gestures in the direction of the kitchen. “I have to be at the hospital at nine thirty, but I could fix you up something quick before I go, if you’re hungry?” She tries to ignore the way the butterflies flittering around in her belly seem to flap more agitatedly as he stalks noiselessly forward, shadowing her steps.

She can practically _feel_ his predatory gaze as it roams over her body, undressing her with his eyes.

“Would you like anything?” Sakura prompts as she continues down the corridor, her body hyper-aware of his electrifying presence right behind her.

“…” Sasuke remains silent. His eyes narrow slightly in disapproval at her obvious attempts to put off what he knows for a fact she wants and _needs_ as much as he does.

There is no doubt that he _is_ hungry. _Famished,_ in fact.

But not for food, oh no.

For _her._

Sakura’s eyes widen when he suddenly flash-steps into existence before her, far too quick for her to react. He rests his right arm against the wall to block her from continuing any further down the hallway, and in the next second he has her pressed, face-first, against it.

“Sasuke-kun-!” she exclaims in surprise. But her body betrays the sensible thoughts that sternly order her to push him off - because she will run late if she does not – instead delighting in the direct aggression of his advances. He has her right palm pressed up to the wall with his, and his left is lifting the hem of her skirt, bandaged fingertips trailing up the back of her thigh.

She bites down on her lower lip when his hand finds the left cheek of her toned bottom, and gives it a firm squeeze. Her breath hitches when he tilts his head next to hers and runs the tip of his tongue slowly along the right side of her throat, before he brings his lips close to her ear.

“ _Sakura,”_ he utters emphatically. _That_ is what he wants to be fed – nothing else will satisfy him.

She swallows. This isn’t good. Her body is already throbbing and silently begging for more. But she reaches behind her to grip onto his left wrist. As if in defiance, he kneads her butt again.

“I have to get to work soon, Sasuke-kun,” she begins, but her voice audibly wobbles, betraying her weak resolve.

He has always been and will _always_ be her greatest weakness.

“In thirty five minutes,” he tells her. His left hand then changes course and dips lower, toward more dangerous territory. Sakura gulps back a gasp at the feel of his warm palm as it slides underneath her and cups the entrance to pleasure heaven between her legs. He breathes heavily into her ear, making his already clear intentions unmistakeable as his fingers begin to stroke lazily over her lace-concealed folds.

“Ah…” Sakura stiffens, and she can’t hold back a yearning little moan this time. But still she feebly protests, “I’ll be late if we-”

“They can wait,” he dismisses. He, on the other hand, cannot. Not even for another minute. Besides, he is confident he can get her to the hospital on time, regardless of the quick detour they are about to take. Sasuke isn’t in any particular mood to take it slow and love her sweetly and gently, this time around. It has been too long - _far too long_ \- since he has lost himself in her and lain in her arms. He wants to fuck her hard and fast.

In his head, he has the mouth-watering mental image of a sex-flustered Sakura having to resort to using her healing chakra to soothe the delicious, lingering soreness from the rough round of love-making he intends to unleash upon her. It is precisely the aggressive kind of session he knows she secretly favours – especially after a lengthy separation.

He also knows, from the way her left hand has withdrawn and the way she subconsciously pushes her rear more firmly back against him, that she wants him right then too, has craved him just as much.

“There’s nobody to cover me,” she breathes, when he removes his hand and grinds his pelvis against her backside. “We can take our time later, Sasuke-kun- oh!” she gasps, when he suddenly pushes harder against her.

Her husband, however, has heard enough. She is Head of the hospital – but the place has enough competent medics, he reasons, to survive if she runs a little off schedule. Which she will not, because he will get her there on time, anyway.

“ _Now,”_ he growls. His body is ablaze for the heat and softness of hers, and as his right hand moves to cup her breast, he thinks he cannot wait to make it to their bedroom. They’ll have to settle for the living room, instead.

Sakura presses her forehead against the wall as his left hand slides to her front, slips underneath her skirt once more, and begins to stimulate her clothed core again. She bites her lower lip; she can feel herself getting damp already. Experience has tutored her husband well in the art of pleasuring her, and he knows exactly which buttons to press to make her wet. It’s starting to become difficult to focus on the guilt of potentially turning up to the intern meeting late. Hadn’t it been scheduled at short notice, anyway? She can’t remember. Because Sasuke’s skilled lips are on her throat again, sucking and biting down hard enough to leave bruising love marks, and her body is already giving in to his advances, eager to be consumed by the flames of lust that he is able to ignite with just a single, searing touch.

Besides, there’s something kind of exciting about doing this in a constrained time limit.

She begins to rub her backside against him in turn, which prompts him to smirk. Finally she is starting to see things his way. Sakura closes her eyes at the feel of his hardening length. How she has missed this. How she had yearned for him, for so many nights. It was despicable of Sasuke, really, to leave her so lonely for so many months.

Sasuke’s eyes lower to watch as her shapely hips gyrate expertly and sensuously, creating burning friction between them as she teases his hidden manhood. His jaw clenches tightly at the arousing sight _._ He is so eager for Sakura’s body that he can already feel himself aching for her.

His right hand then moves to the zip at the neck of her top. Sasuke hastily yanks it down and it parts, giving him his first peek of her breasts in months. He quickly slips the top completely off her, and then spins her roughly around to face him, slamming her wrists back against the wall as he leans forward and pushes his hardness more firmly against her.

His heavy-lashed eyes smoulder into hers like smoking embers, and Sakura’s heart jumps at the pure _hunger_ she sees in them. It mirrors the inner craving ravaging her. Then, abruptly, his lips crash down ravenously upon hers and Sakura sighs into the hard, bruising kiss, giving herself willingly up to it.

Her sense of excitement and anticipation grows as his mouth slashes over hers. She recognises the mood her husband is in – the no-nonsense, impatient one – and her body is already turned on by the mere thought of him utterly _ravishing_ her. But if Sasuke thinks she will make it easy for him, and allow him to dominate after such an extended absence, then he is in for quite the surprise. It is _she_ who should be punishing _him_ for staying double the length of time away.

But she will let him think he has the upper hand, for now…  

She smiles against his lips – and then yelps when one of his hands abruptly releases her, tangles itself in her ponytail, and jerks her head roughly back so that her chin is tilted and she is looking directly up at him. Sasuke’s lips hover possessively over her own, just shy of touching as he keeps her in place, lifting his left hand to trace her jawline as his breath fans hotly against her skin.

His eyes consume her, drawing her into their darkness. Then he runs his tongue slowly, sensually, along her lower lip, utterly tantalising her.

“Ahhn…” Sakura moans longingly at the pleasurable feeling.

“ _Later_ , Sakura?” he whispers, his upper lip brushing over her lower one as he mocks her earlier objections. Because suddenly, she sounds far too keen to his ears.

Sakura releases a shaky breath, and he knows from the telling waver in her hypnotic green eyes that he now has her precisely where he wants her.

She has already forgotten all about the hospital. She has never turned up late to a shift in her life, and she thinks this _urgent_ matter is worth the one-off exception. Besides, all she can really concentrate on is how damned _sexy_ her gorgeous husband is, how horny he makes her and how he drives her hormones completely _insane._

“No,” she exhales, fisting her fingers at the collar of his white top. “ _Now-_ ”

The word has barely left her and Sasuke is already kissing her again with wild, reckless abandon, as if the world was to end tomorrow and this is the very last time he will ever make love to her. It causes her to swoon, and Sakura feels like she is falling, plummeting from a great height, as her racing heart soars inside her chest.

She loves him. She loves him _so much_. She does not think that Sasuke can even begin to comprehend it, or will ever really _fathom_ just how sweetly and terribly she adores him.

Sakura hooks her slender legs above his slim hips when he hoists her up into his arms and begins to carry her, from memory, in the general direction of the living room. Her hands rake through his hair, nails scraping against his warm scalp. The raven strands are fine between her fingertips, and she thinks again to herself how much she likes it this length – even if it does get into his beautiful eyes far too much.

It’s long enough for her to play with. Long enough for her to pull on during their ardent love-making.

His tongue prods her mouth impatiently for entry, and Sakura provides him access, swirling and stroking her own hungrily against his. He must be too distracted to make it to the couch immediately, however, for her husband’s usually impeccable sense of direction is somewhat skewed, and he ends up pressing her against the side of the living room’s doorway instead. The deep, passionate, fiery kiss leaves them both heaving for air, and Sasuke is reluctant to break it. He bites down into her lower lip sensually as he does so, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire as they lock once again onto hers.

“Sasuke-kun,” she murmurs, cupping his cheeks lovingly as she brushes his unruly hair out of his eyes.

How he has missed every part of her. Sasuke rests his head against her shoulder for a moment, still supporting her weight against the doorway as he takes in her presence and struggles with the near crippling yearning that tugs at his chest. Then his lips trail over her collarbone, and lower to her bra-concealed breasts.

He wants the damned lacy undergarment off. Without bothering to ask her to unhook it, his right hand fumbles for the small, leather supplies pouch at his waist as he continues to place a rain of kisses down her slender throat. Then, in a skilled movement too quick for Sakura to even register, he produces a sharp kunai, which he uses to slice the straps of her bra, before tearing it away from her body, discarding the weapon to the ground in the process. When he draws back his arm, he pulls her hair free from its ponytail, too, drags his fingers through her silky locks.

“Sasuke-kun!” she gasps, feigning shock, but internally she is delighted at his wickedness. It has been a while since he has been impatient enough to resort to using _weapons,_ rather than his fingers, to undress her.

He pays her playful protest no heed. His blistering mouth has already lowered to devour her right mound. Sakura releases another needy moan at the feel of his lips as they suck on her aroused nipple, and the pleasurable sensation of his scorching tongue as it swirls over her sensitive pink bud. Her back arches against the doorframe. It is hard and uncomfortable, digging between her shoulder blades. But she cannot bring herself to care for it. She presses his head down more firmly, tightening her legs around him encouragingly.

“Sasuke-kun,” she whimpers quietly. “Ah… yes… there…”

Keeping one arm under her, he lifts his other to squeeze her left breast, rolling the nipple beneath his calloused thumb. Sakura barely suppresses the pleasurable shudder that shoots down her spine.

Sasuke then finally seems to register the impracticality of the doorway, for he lifts her away from it, still kissing and fondling her, and carries her into the room, swaying a little left and right unsteadily in his distraction, until his shins hit the solid obstruction of the couch at last.

He throws his wife down upon it, and hastily pulls his shirt over his head as he climbs over her. Sakura’s hands waste no time in roaming all over his skin, gliding appreciatively over the steely, taut muscles of his defined chest and abdomen. She kisses his arms, his palms and then scratches her nails down the slant of his broad back.

He releases an approving hiss at this.

“Sasuke-kun,” she then purrs, laying her trap as she throws her arms back over her head and smiles alluringly up at him. Sasuke is spellbound by the seductive siren that lies beneath him and cannot tear his eyes off the erotic sight.

She doesn’t know how beautiful she is. _So_ beautiful, and all _his._

He bends his head demandingly again, capturing her in another frenzied, open-mouthed kiss. She parts her legs willingly, allowing him to grind his hardness down against her. They are both flustered and panting already, desperate to make up for lost time.

Sasuke’s fingertips stroke up the silky, smooth skin of her calves. They tickle her, tracing circular motions until they reach her inner thighs. His touch leaves her body tingling and sizzling all over, as if he is directly channelling an electrical current into her nerve endings. Bunching up her loose skirt, he tugs at the final undergarment that keeps her heated centre from his eager hands.

That is when a deviously scheming Sakura decides that she’s let him have his way with her for long enough. Charging a carefully controlled stream of chakra into her hands, she catches him completely off guard, pushing against him with enough force to send him falling backwards against the couch. Before he can recover, she quickly and nimbly straddles his waist, biting back a laugh at the open look of bewilderment that settles over his handsome features.

“Sakura,” he frowns, as he attempts to sit back up. He wants to crush her beneath him, to hook her legs over his shoulders and pound her so hard and senseless that she can’t even say his name - or anything else for that matter - coherently.

But his wife has other ideas. Pressing her palm firmly down on his chest, she lets him feel the surge of pressured chakra that warns him that she wants to play _first,_ this time. He reluctantly settles back down, but continues to glare at her for rudely interrupting him.

Sakura smiles victoriously to herself. He will not be unhappy for long.

She starts by grinding her hips once over his cock in a slow, circular motion. She can feel its pulsating heat as it strains against her from underneath his loose black trousers. Sasuke sucks in a sharp breath and his fingers dig into her thighs, but Sakura reaches out, grabs his wrists and pins his arms by his head, in the same manner he loves to do to her.

“Sakura,” he protests, fingers curling into fists, “-what are you-?”

She responds by bearing down on him more forcefully, cutting him abruptly off. He clenches his teeth as she works a steady rhythm, and wants to tear his hands out from underneath her. But his little vixen of a wife is using her monstrous strength to keep him in place.

 _Damn it,_ he internally groans. Though he outwardly feigns irritation, it feels _so_ good, having her on top of him like this.

“You left me for so long, Sasuke-kun,” she sighs, as she rocks against him, enjoying the feel of his bulging hardness underneath her. It excites her, to know he is already so aroused. “So long,” she moans again, closing her eyes as she continues to rub herself almost desperately against him.

Sasuke’s lips part in awe at the sensual view. _Fuck._ The sight of her above him is almost enough to drive him wild. Her breasts bounce teasingly in circular motions right in front of his face as she works him, but when he tries to lift his head to capture a delectable mound hungrily in his lips, she draws back, just out of reach.

“Sakura,” he rasps, his frustration escalating. He wants to touch her. So badly. But at that moment, she will not let him.

“Ohhh…” she lets out another breathy whimper, gaining pace as the delicious heat in her lower belly increases. Then she decides that his clothes are now a hindrance, and briefly has to let go of his wrists, acting with the sole intention of undoing his trousers and releasing what she has so desperately missed for four months.

Sasuke smirks deviously in triumph. It is the moment of distraction he has been waiting for. She thinks she can win this game – but she doesn’t seem to realise who she is messing with. He lets her pull down his remaining clothes to his thighs, allows her the satisfaction of watching as his throbbing erection springs free.

Sakura chews her lower lip, and the tingling sensation between her legs increases. It’s a wonderful reminder, to look upon his impressive thickness and length – knowing that she is about to ride this instrument of pleasure again after so many weeks of patient abstinence-

Sasuke abruptly lunges up, shoves her off him and flips her quickly onto her stomach. She protests as his strong chest presses down against her back, pinning her in position.

He lowers his head to trail impassioned kisses down the beautiful, natural curve of her spine.

“Ungh-” Sakura struggles, almost giving into his tempting ministrations when his hands move to snatch at what remains of her clothes. Sasuke tells himself that he will tear them off now if he has to – he needs these useless garments off. He needs to be inside her. He isn’t going to wait anymore.

Her skirt and lacy thong are ripped away, and he squeezes her ass between his fingers tightly again, feeling his sense of anticipation heighten when she releases another husky moan. He then briefly removes one of his hands to hastily kick off his trousers completely.

That is all Sakura needs to heave him backwards and twist agilely around to straddle him once again.

Her blinking husband is even more incredulous this time. She’d used the same cheap shot he had. His hair falls adorably into his eyes, as he glowers resentfully, “Using your _abilities,_ Sakura? Don’t make me level the playing field.”

She laughs at the clear threat in his words. Instead of being discouraged in any way, they thrill her. “Go ahead,” she teases – and then lowers her head, and presses her lips over the tip of his manhood, blowing a playful puff of air upon it.

Sasuke just about manages to swallow back a violent curse and his fingers tighten on the couch beneath him as the coil of tension inside his gut clenches considerably. Damn it. _Damn it._ She has him completely at her mercy, now – the precise opposite of what he had intended from the outset. He watches her with heavy-lidded eyes, his heart hammering against his ribcage, as she parts her pretty, rosy lips and takes as much of him as she can into her mouth. Her tongue slides and sucks and strokes his shaft, as her right hand closes to form a firm fist that pumps him steadily. The sight of her head bobbing as she works him into a complete frenzy is almost enough to push him completely over the edge.

“Hmm…” she hums deliberately; the vibrations in her throat enhance the steady pressure building inside him.

Sasuke inhales sharply, grabs a fistful of her silky hair instinctively with his right hand. His chin falls back, as he squeezes his eyes and fights to keep his pride intact, to suppress the needy groans that are dangerously close to deploying themselves on the tip of his tongue. _Fuck._ He cannot stand this level of stimulation for much longer. Just a little more of this and he is afraid he will peak right into her mouth. He cannot let that happen. Not before he has embedded himself in her. Not before he has made her scream first.

His eyes then snap open, when she suddenly removes her mouth far too soon, positions him at her entrance and impales herself abruptly down upon him.

“Khh-!” Sasuke cannot stop the strangled sound from escaping his throat at the feel of her heat enveloping him like a slick, molten vice. He finds that he cannot think coherently, then, that his mind is somewhat compromised by the glorious view he has of her lifting and dropping herself onto him. She is like a goddess of lust, sent down from the high heavens to drive him completely out of his mind.

“Are you alright, Sasuke-kun?” she teases, knowing full well from the evident strain she detects in his forehead that he is rapidly losing the battle between them. In this position, she fully controls the pace and rhythm of her movements. To think, that she has one of the most deadly and dangerous shinobi in ninja history at her complete mercy like this… The feeling of empowerment gives her an adrenaline buzz like no other. She rides him in unhurried, circular motions, far too slow and torturous for him to take. The pressure and tightness inside him escalate to excruciating levels as her palms press down against his pectorals and she grinds her core sensuously against him.

"Ghhn!" Another tense exclamation passes through his teeth. It feels _so_ divine, having her slick walls stroking him like this again after far too many lonely nights. He will not quite concede defeat yet, however, and is just as determined to torture her. Sasuke lifts a hand, presses a thumb to her clit, where he proceeds to stimulate her in rapid, circular motions. He wants her to orgasm first.  

“Mmm,” she hums approvingly, closing her eyes and throwing her head back as she finally takes mercy upon him and begins to quicken the speed and depth of her dips. “Ah…” she slides her hands back to rest them upon his thighs, using them to support her balance. Her moans become more vocal, and they only serve to arouse Sasuke further.

“Oh… _Sasuke-kun_ …” she purrs seductively as he massages her with greater urgency. “Yeah…” she whispers, and grabs her breasts as she feels herself nearing her summit. “Right there. Mmm…”

“Hhh…” Sasuke exhales, feeling the perspiration gather on his brow. He can’t take anymore. He is so close. _So close._ The mounting pressure is now verging on pain and is nothing short of torturous. He can’t hold back; he _needs_ his release. And he realises, with a sudden shock of frantic thought that blazes through the lust-clouded haze that has settled over his mind, that there is now only one way to salvage this, to detonate her explosive climax before his.

He is an _Uchiha._ And she may be in name, too, but she was not born with his Clan’s ocular gifts, and she has clearly forgotten the _risk_ they can pose.

He decides, right then and there, that she needs reminding.

Sakura’s closed eyelids fly open when Sasuke abruptly releases a frustrated, throaty snarl and then moves to knock her viciously off her perch of pleasure on top of him. In a second, he has pounced and she is pinned down again on the couch underneath him. But this time she knows there is no getting back up. Her heart leaps at the inextinguishable fire she glimpses blazing in his eyes. She has worked him up into quite an agitated, flushed state; boldly dangled succulent bait in front of a feral predator. And the inner beast that resides inside her husband has clearly had enough of being toyed with, and reached its absolute limits.

She is enthralled at the sight of him above her. So sexy. So intense. She has pushed him far enough and he has played right into her hands – and now he is going to give her exactly what she has really wanted all along. But Sakura feels her sense of triumph wane considerably as his charcoal irises begin to bleed away, replaced by a mismatched pair. His sharingan and rinnegan capture her immediately, and it is like a mental slap that sends her mind reeling. She is all at once gasping, disorientated, completely at his mercy, now.

“Sa-!” she tries to tell him that this is unfair, that using his eyes is cheating. But she remembers that she had mocked him just minutes earlier, to level the playing field.

That is precisely, she realises, as he smirks darkly down at her, what he is doing.

She wriggles, tries to scoot herself half-heartedly backwards. But his arms keep her caged in place.

“You’re not going _anywhere,”_ he growls, as he grabs her hips and drags her closer again, pressing his thumb to her swollen clit once more as he fondles her a few more times. She gasps when he then grasps her ankles and hooks her legs over his shoulders – the way he had planned to do from the start - creating a tantalisingly tight angle and slope of penetration for them both. Sasuke then enters her with a merciless thrust that makes his wife shriek as he immediately hits her deepest, most pleasurable spot.

“Ah!” Sakura scrambles to grab hold of something to keep herself anchored to sanity, but he pins her arms down.

His eyebrows furrow together _. Damn._ She is so incredibly, deliciously _tight_ like this, that Sasuke doesn’t think he will last more than a few thrusts at most if goes too rough and too fast immediately. So instead he takes his time, delays the last steps to his rapidly approaching climax as he draws back out of her slowly, until the head of his cock is positioned just outside her entrance.

“Sasuke-kun,” she pants, as his piercing, mismatched eyes set her very soul alight. “Please…!”

To punish her for tormenting him only minutes earlier, Sasuke deliberately pushes deeply into her again with excruciating unhurriedness, prompting his wife to moan loudly with longing. Her eyes briefly close as she struggles to regulate her breathing. The friction is so extreme when he enters her this way that it almost verges on pain. She can feel her walls being stretched to their absolute limits. He then leans forward, and his weight tilts her ass up even further as he holds himself deep inside her for a long, tantalising moment, the tip of his cock striking her cervix.

“Ohh…!” Sakura writhes in agony at the intense pleasure that tingles through her at the contact. He is _so_ thick. And so very deep! Too thick and deep at this angle, and she does not think she can withstand such sweet torture.

“ _Looks like._ ” He exhales hotly against her lips. “ _I._ ” He draws back out. “ _Win.”_ He finishes emphatically, punctuating the final word with a deep, hard thrust that makes his wife whimper.

Her breath snags when he then pulls out again – far too slowly for her liking. The tingles assaulting her are now unbearable, and she does not care for their game anymore, or about who climaxes first. The only thing she can think about clearly is how roughly she wants him to fuck her to the point of ecstasy. She bites her lower lip in frustration.

“Don’t stop, Sasuke-kun,” she is almost begging him now to give her the release her body craves, for she cannot take it anymore, the villainous way he is so obviously toying with her. “Faster! Harder! _Please-!_ ”

He does not need another cue. Without warning, he impales his shaft inside her again and begins to slam viciously in and out of her, with a force so brutal that it shakes the entire couch and causes her pleading cries to break off disjointedly.

“Unh! Ah! Ahhhn! Sa-su-ke-ku-n!” she shrieks. “O-h! Oh pl-ease! Oh ple-ease, oh _pleaseohpleaseohpl-_ ” she breaks off, the air abandoning her lungs briefly as she teeters upon the chasm of no return at last.

The air is filled with unsteady breaths and the squelching, slapping, erotic rhythm of him pounding her.

“Hhhh…!” he exhales heavily, his face contorting with effort as he ruthlessly ups his pace and rams into her with even greater force, making her head roll back as the throbbing tingles inside her finally crest and she reaches her peak.

“Sasuke-kuuun!” she screams. Her back arches upwards as her body is overcome by the mind-blowing orgasm he delivers to her. “Yes!” she near sobs. “Yes, yes, _yes, ahhhn!_ ”

“ _Fuck!”_ Sasuke hisses, through teeth that are ground together so hard, his jaw aches. The erotic sight of his flushed wife, coupled with her cries and the exhilarating sensation of her tight walls as they contract rhythmically around his cock pushes him to the very edge, makes his vision cloud over briefly as the mounting, clenching pressure finally snaps and explodes, sending wave after wave of excruciating pleasure coursing through his entire body. Like fire it blazes through his veins, setting him alight as he spills his hot seed into her. He is near-delirious as his thunderous heart soars from the unparalleled, adrenaline rush – and Sasuke cannot stop the loud groan that rips from his throat as he continues to thrust viciously into her, riding out the remaining, euphoric spikes of ecstasy.

“ _Ugh…!_ ” So good. It feels _so damned good_ , and it’s Sakura, _Sakura,_ who is giving him this much needed relief. “ _Haaah!_ ”

He almost loses himself entirely to it. But there is one last thing Sasuke tells himself, that he absolutely _must_ do, before they rapidly begin to descend from the pinnacles of heaven. He releases one of his wife’s wrists and grabs her chin so that her lust hazed, unfocussed eyes meet his.

His crimson sharingan spins as he captures her in a genjutsu that causes her to stiffen beneath him as the sensations still rippling through her body are heightened and extended in her mind. Her body convulses, and her eyes roll back as even stronger waves of pleasure assault her once more. It is a feeling so intense that it steals her breath away entirely, and only a choked silence leaves her open mouth as another searing orgasm tears through her.

Sasuke lowers his lips feverishly to hers as he gives her three final, forceful thrusts – before growing still inside her. Breathing raggedly, he then finally unhooks her legs gently from his shoulders, places fleeting kisses upon her skin – and then collapses on top of her. He feels her chest heave as she breaks out of the temporary illusion a few seconds later, and smiles a small, proud smile against her sticky skin.

She has always had a talent for dispelling them.

Sakura moans softly as she snaps back to reality. She then squirms slightly under him. Sasuke shifts and finally draws out of her, before he rests his head lazily upon her right breast, his fingers caressing her silky sides. The genjutsu had only lasted for a minute – but that length of time had felt more like an agonising hour to her while she’d been trapped inside it, and her heart is still thundering from the continuous waves of pleasure he’d made her experience upon eye contact. She blinks dazedly up at the ceiling, completely stunned and disorientated, the delicious effects of the phantom climaxes still lingering on her body.

She thinks, like she always does whenever he uses it during sex, that she likes his sharingan _very_ much.

They lay there together in silence, catching their breaths, exhausted and spent, their bodies deliciously sated and replete.

Finally, she manages, as she lifts a hand to run her fingers tenderly through his hair, “Wow, Sasuke-kun.”

It had been one _hell_ of a reunion make-out session.

“Hn,” he smirks, but his masculine ego needs no additional boosts. He _knows_ he is good – though he still likes to hear her appreciation. And Sakura… she’s quite something, too. His right hand trails to the side of her hip, where he proceeds to draw lazy patterns over her skin.

“You don’t _always_ win,” she then points out, and he can hear the smile on her lips. “Remember before you left, when I-?” she inhales sharply, when his hand suddenly rises and pinches her left nipple to cut her off.

His eyelids droop. He does recall it, all too well. Sakura had driven him insane that morning, and he’d come the closest he’d ever been to _asking_ her to give him release, when they’d spent the entire session with her on top.

Sasuke laces his fingers through hers, lifts her left hand, and brings it to his lips, placing a kiss to her knuckles, grazing just above the wedding ring that marks her as his.

“Most of the time,” he mumbles, even when he knows – from the giggle she releases – that it is not really true. The reality is that Sakura has him completely wrapped around her little finger. She makes him want her so desperately, so senselessly, that he cannot think or function straight until he has her. And she makes him want her _all_ the time. He doesn’t really know what it is, has never been able to figure out this strange spell she has cast over him, the power she has commanded from their genin days.

He only knows that he never wants it to end, that he loves her, and that whenever he is away from her, he only loves her harder.

Sakura sighs in contentment, her body relaxed in the afterglow of their love-making – if a little sore. She doesn’t mind, though. It was definitely worth the bumps and bruises. She then closes her eyes as she continues to play lethargically with her sweetheart’s hair – only for her eyelids to fly open a second later.

“My shift!” she gasps, as sudden recollection slams unpleasantly into her.

Sasuke frowns lightly. Oh, _that._ He had almost forgotten. With great reluctance, he lifts himself off her. His wife scrambles off the couch, and her gaze darts anxiously to the clock on the wall – only to squeak when Sasuke slaps that delectable little bottom of hers. She whips her head around to glare at her smirking husband. To her surprise, his rinnegan and sharingan are still activated. She guesses he is probably memorising the view of her, from behind. And he called Naruto and Kakashi _perverts._

“It’s not funny!” she reprimands him. “I’ve just about got ten minutes- and I don’t even have time to take a shower! This is entirely your fault, Sasuke-kun!”

He snorts, looking completely haughty and unapologetic as he watches her scoot her clothes up and yank them on hastily, hopping about in the process. Then he sighs, and rises to retrieve his own clothing as a fully-dressed Sakura frantically works to smooth down her tousled pink locks. She runs around like a headless chicken, going left and right. He follows her, buttoning up his shirt and chuckling slightly in amusement at her endearing antics, as she douses herself with enough perfume to keep her smelling acceptable until she _can_ grab a quick shower during her lunch break.

She is just about to leave the house, when she gasps and turns back in the direction of the kitchen.

“My lunch!” she exclaims. She disappears down the hallway - only to reappear again a second later, swings her bag over her shoulder, and moves to peck her husband automatically on the cheek. “You remember what time Sarada finishes, right?” she asks distractedly, as she puts on her sandals and slides the front doors open. “I should be back just after six-thirty, so I’ll see you both later, Sasuke-kun!”

She hurries outside. Sasuke rolls his eyes at her dramatics as he follows her. “Slow down,” he says, reaching out to grasp her arm.

“Wha-?” his wife gapes at him in bewilderment. In response, he winds an arm around her waist, draws her close against him, and lifts his gaze up to an unspecified point. Sakura barely has time to blink – and then the world passes in a rushing blur of whistling wind and blinding movement. When she regains her bearings, she finds that they are no longer in front of their home. Sasuke has transported them onto a rooftop, and alighted inside a small alcove that conceals them from any prying eyes.

It takes a stunned Sakura a few moments to realise where they are. Then it hits her. They have landed right on top of the hospital rooftop.

“You’ve got four minutes to make it downstairs,” he intones, his right arm still wrapped firmly around her.

Sakura gapes at him. “How did you-?” she begins, but immediately understands when her eyes meet his rinnegan.

Her husband’s neutral expression softens. “This is my ability,” he states. After a pause, in which he gazes down at her, he prompts quietly, “Remember?”

Sakura’s heart flutters. She instantly does. And suddenly she is dragged back through time, is seventeen once again in the war, stuck in a strange, rocky dimension, exhausted and chakra depleted. And her heart pounds, the same way it did back then, when Sasuke had unexpectedly caught her after making it through Obito’s portal, and spoken similar words.

Her lips part. She is struck all of a sudden, by the incredibly powerful, moving nostalgia of the memory, and her eyes well with unexpected tears. Sasuke’s eyebrows draw together slightly, and he seems so incredibly _pained_ for a moment – almost as if his heart is constricting and he is reliving that precise second with her – that Sakura does what she wishes she’d had the strength and boldness to do back then.

“Sakura,” he begins, his voice rough and low – the way it becomes whenever he struggles to articulate something of importance. “I-”

She lifts her right hand and cups his left cheek, strokes her thumb lovingly over his skin. Sees, all too clearly, how her mere touch chases away his past demons and the crippling regret that dances fleetingly over his gaze. She does not want him to feel sorry. To wallow in the past. She knows, now, how much she had meant to him, even back then – has known it for years.

“I’ll see you later, Sasuke-kun,” she whispers. Then she smiles, leans forward, and places a lingering kiss on his lips.

He inhales sharply, and crushes her close, for he knows that nobody can see them in the concealed place he had selected to land. The kiss they share is tender and full of yearning, leaves them both quivering inside. Then she finally draws back, and pulls reluctantly away from him, before she hurries to the pair of emergency exit doors that lead back into the building.

As she glances back one final time before she disappears inside, all Sasuke can think of is how she has completed him, saved him, restored peace to his chaotic heart, and how terribly he loves her.

And he does not know it right then, but it is the day that their second child is conceived.


	3. Making Salad

 

  
**Making Salad**

* * *

_**_Scenario:_ ** Preparing lunch. Sasuke snags the last tomato. Sakura isn’t pleased._

* * *

Her eyes dart anxiously onto the clock that hangs on the kitchen wall as she washes the potatoes. Naruto and Hinata are due to arrive within the next hour, and she feels tightly pressed for time. The main course is already stewing in the pot, and she has to admit, it smells pretty delicious. But she still has to prepare the salad, make dessert for later on in the afternoon, _and_ set the table.

Sakura had mistakenly believed that she’d had the day off to herself, a blissful, free morning to spend in leisure and luxury. Until the phone call at precisely ten thirty had made her scramble around the house like a madwoman, ensuring everything was tidy, before rushing into the kitchen to salvage a meal from whatever ingredients she could get her hands on. She had not even been given the time to make a quick trip to the shops to buy extra groceries.

Trust the Seventh Hokage to call up so unexpectedly at the last minute to inform her that he feels like dropping by for a ‘light lunch’, along with his wife!

She wipes her hands on the cream apron which she has tied over her navy, knee-length skirt, and begins to hastily peel the freshly washed vegetables. Standing beside her at the counter, Sasuke, looking handsome in a navy shirt and smart-casual black trousers, is grating carrots for the salad. His movements are markedly more relaxed and less agitated than hers, which only causes Sakura’s anxiety to escalate.

“Sasuke-kun,” she urges. “Do you think you could grate those a little faster? We don’t have much time left!”

Sasuke snorts. He doesn’t quite understand why Sakura is panicking so much.

“It’s only the dobe,” he scoffs.

“With _Hinata,”_ Sakura reminds her husband. “This is the first time she’s entering our house, and I want her to have a good impression! You remember how it was when we went to _theirs_!”

Sasuke rolls his eyes at this. He has never cared much for formalities, and he thinks that he has barely spoken five sentences to the Hyuuga heiress since their genin days. But just to appease his wife, he speeds up and quickly finishes grating, then moves to the sink to rinse the utensil in his hands.

“The lettuce,” Sakura exclaims distractedly, “I forgot to take it out! Sasuke-kun, could you get it from the fridge, please?”

He scowls lightly to himself, but does as she requests. Sakura has been doing nothing but worrying and throwing orders at him for the last thirty five minutes, and while he is more than happy to help her, he thinks she needs to relax and loosen up a little. She is taking this visit way too seriously, treating it far too formally.

After retrieving the lettuce and washing it thoroughly, he moves back to the counter. Sakura is putting the skinned potatoes into a salted pan to boil. Then she begins to scoop up the salad ingredients Sasuke has already sliced, and places them into a circular wooden bowl. She accepts the lettuce from him and begins to chop it.

Sasuke watches her for a moment. Her cheeks are tinged pink from working under pressure, and a lock of dusky rose hair has fallen out from the hasty bun she fixed earlier. She’s wearing an off-the-shoulder, deep crimson top. He always likes her in that skirt, too. He looks idly back to the counter – and then his attention is suddenly snagged by the plump, juicy red, lone tomato that remains.

He isn’t particularly hungry, but he has always had a soft spot for the fruit, and since it is the last one they have left, he thinks it is wholly unfair to waste it on an idiot like Naruto.

He doesn’t really know anything about Hinata’s food preferences, but he reasons that she will surely not even notice the lack of tomato in the salad.

So he plucks it up, and nonchalantly takes a bite.

Sakura finishes with the lettuce and glances distractedly at him. “Sasuke-kun, could you-?” she stops abruptly, blinking incredulously at the sight of her husband munching so casually on a key ingredient.

The _last_ tomato.

“Sasuke-kun!” she gasps in dismay. “What are you doing?! That’s the last tomato!”

Sasuke’s dark eyes merely watch her unashamedly as he continued to blithely and shamelessly eat the fruit.

“Stop, Sasuke-kun!” Sakura exclaims, and desperately reaches out to try to salvage at least half of it. “We don’t have anymore!”

Sasuke is swift to avoid her snatching attempts to dispossess him of the tomato, keeping it raised high above her reach, and smirks smugly at her as he takes another savouring bite.

Sakura’s jaw drops. She looks kind of annoyingly adorable, Sasuke thinks to himself, and when she points an index finger at him and scowls in that endearing, pouting manner he can never quite take completely seriously, he suddenly thinks of the perfect way to get her to loosen up, and his mind drifts completely away from the innocent activity of cooking.

“That was the last tomato!” she repeats, visibly riled. “What am I supposed to do now?! How could you do that, Sasuke-kun!” When he takes another mocking bite, she admonishes, “Don’t eat it like an apple, you know that-!”

Sasuke releases a low chuckle and steps toward her. “You’re interesting when you get all angry.”

“-we have no time to-” she blinks, as his words finally register. “Huh?” she blushes deeply at that, caught entirely off-guard by the strange choice of… compliment? Looking up at him with widened eyes, she begins uncertainly, “Sasuke-kun…?”

Sasuke pops what remains of the tomato into his mouth, and continues to prowl forward. In a second he has her backed against the counter. Butterflies flutter inside Sakura’s stomach when she reads the clear intent in his smouldering eyes, and yelps when his hands abruptly lower to her hips, and he hoists her up onto the wooden work-top.

He leans forward, and captures her lips with his, kisses her slowly, tenderly. Sakura doesn’t fight it. She feels her half-hearted exasperation melt away, tells herself that a kiss might be precisely what she needs to release all her pent up anxiety. It will only take a minute, she reasons. She has never been one to resist or deny Sasuke any kisses, after all. Quite the opposite, in fact.

 _It feels so good,_ she sighs in contentment against her husband’s lips. How wonderfully proficient he is at kissing. But of course, this is _Sasuke-kun,_ and there is nothing that this alpha-male Uchiha _cannot_ master.

But the kiss soon becomes more demanding, harder and more sensual. Dangerous. She feels a familiar, aching heat begin to pool into her lower belly.

When his fingers tug to untie the apron from around her waist, she pulls back with a startled gasp.

“Sasuke-kun, the lunch-!” she worries. 

“Forget the lunch,” he growls dismissively, yanking the apron away, and her feeble resistance seems to be tossed aside with it. Before she knows it, he has removed her skirt and pushed up her top, and is planting blazing kisses along the sensitive column of her throat.

“Oh…” she exhales, head falling back as he expertly unclasps her lacy crimson bra and discards it to the ground. She bites her lower lip as his hands slide up her sides and cup her breasts, squeezing and massaging. The touch is akin to electrical sparks, like he is directly channelling a stream of _chidori_ through her body, and is enough to make her give in entirely. As he leans further forward over her, she presses her knees firmly against his hips in an unspoken, silent plea.

Sasuke lowers his head and licks at a perky pink nipple, hands still kneading her soft mounds. Sakura suppresses a pleasurable shudder as he takes the aroused bud into his hot mouth and swirls his rough tongue around it before sucking gently.

“Sasuke-kun,” she purrs, her heart now ramming erratically against her ribcage. His bandaged left hand falls away from the worship it had been paying to her right breast and trails down, tickling her skin, until it reaches her thighs.

Her insides quiver as he traces random patterns over her skin, inches closer and closer to her throbbing core. He continues to suck and fondle her mounds as he slips his fingers between her legs and begins stroking her concealed slit. Sakura gasps, her elbows the only things keeping her propped up on the counter. His touch makes her burn, leaves her breathless. She is already so damp for him, her body so receptive to his, always eager, always hungry…

“Sasuke-kun…” she moans softly.

He gives her left breast one final, hard suck and then lifts his head. That sinful mouth ghosts over the feminine curve of her jawline, then hovers over her right ear, and he breathes hotly, sexily, “What was that about lunch…?”

So hot. So deviously _sexy._ Sakura responds in precisely the manner Sasuke wants, wraps her arms tightly around his neck and hauls him down into another impassioned, frenzied kiss.

They forget all about talking, then. All Sakura can focus on is how badly the internal ache is now throbbing, and all Sasuke can think about is how hard he wants to fuck her, right there, on the kitchen counter.

He all but tears her final piece of underwear away, hastily unbuckles his own belt, and in seconds, he has buried his thick, pulsating member deeply inside her slick cavern. He releases a low hiss at the agonisingly pleasurable feel of her molten walls sheathing his length to its hilt, and begins to thrust steadily in and out of her.

 _Fuck. She feels so tight. _Sasuke, drunk on the wine of her love by this point, lowers his lips ravenously to hers once again, distractedly thinks that his wife drives him near out of his mind, feels _so damned_ good, looks so erotic and desirable sprawled submissively under him. As she hooks her slender legs around his waist and digs the heels of her feet firmly into his backside, he feels the tingling friction intensify.

Sakura whimpers against his mouth as his thrusts begin to quicken and harden. He squeezes her breasts again, his wet tongue clashing against and devouring hers, teeth nipping and biting as he pounds brutally into her. He draws back briefly for air, eyebrows furrowing with concentrated effort as he ups his pace further, driving his wife wild and delirious with desire. She is so lost in the moment, that she does not even care how uncomfortable the hard wood is under her.

“Oh…!” she cries, and every sound she makes arouses Sasuke even further, like a divine, erotic symphony serenading his senses, adding further fuel to his sizzling blood-stream. “Ah, ah, ah!”

The detonation within them has well and truly begun. Each touch summons sparks, thrills.

Somewhere in the distance, Sakura thinks she can hear the water boiling violently in the pan, and she thinks the food must surely be burning, and it must almost be time for their guests to arrive, but she can’t bring herself to care, as she slides her palms over her husband’s defined pectorals and then claws her nails down the slant of his broad, powerful back, hard enough to leave angry red marks as she delights in the masculine feel of his strong muscles tautening beneath her fingertips. How can she possibly pay heed to the meal, when the red haze of lust has settled over them both, when she is so close, so very, _very_ close to sweet, heavenly release…?

“Sakura…” he rasps her name, sucking at her throat, kissing every part of her skin his gluttonous lips can reach.

She closes her eyes and moans loudly again. The air is filled with the sound of their laboured breaths.

_A-almost there…_

Her heart is a frantic drum. So is Sasuke’s. In that moment, they can see, hear, smell, taste and feel nothing but each other.

“Oh… ahn!” Sakura’s voice is husky with need. “Sasuke-kun…! Yes! I’m- so _close_ -!”

Tighter. _Tighter._ The tormenting, tingling sensation clenches and clenches, coiling with unbearable tension, and Sakura can feel herself rocketing up to the pinnacle of ecstasy with every deep plunge, every slick, squelching stroke, every vicious, slapping thrust…

Her breath lodges in her throat and her back arches as her orgasm tears violently through her body, and she hears Sasuke release a guttural curse as he joins her in the euphoria of climax, his hips bucking wildly against her. Sakura cries out his name, over and over as she rides out the waves of rapture, and it is the sweetest music he has ever heard.

They scarcely have a moment to recover when the doorbell suddenly rings.

They stiffen and freeze, snapped unpleasantly from the bliss of their love-making by the timely arrival of their guests. The heavy mist of pleasure hanging over Sakura is chased promptly away as her widened eyes meet her husband’s in abject horror.

“They-” she chokes. “They’re _here_ already?”

“Stupid dobe,” Sasuke grunts and reluctantly draws out of her. Hastily they throw their clothes back on, as the doorbell rings a second time, a third, a fourth and a fifth. Someone pounds impatiently on the front door, and they hear Naruto’s muffled voice from beyond.

“C’mon, open up, -ttebayo!” The Hokage’s voice whines. He bangs again, making an absolute racket. Typical Naruto.

Sakura scrambles to make herself presentable again, presses her hands to her flushed cheeks, fans herself in a frantic attempt to cool her flustered face down as she mutters panicked words along the lines of _what were we thinking,_ and _Naruto will_ _know_ – even if deep down, beneath the guilt, she selfishly thinks it was completely worth it.

A smirking Sasuke smoothens and clips back her hair - a little untidily - but he thinks it will just have to do. Since he is the significantly more composed of the two, he decides to be the one to open the door.

Naruto’s fist is poised to break it down when it abruptly swings open. He and Hinata blink at Sasuke in mutual surprise.

“Sasukeeee!” he shouts – far too loudly.

“I’m right here,” Sasuke frowns. “Don’t shout, idiot.”

“Ah! S-Sasuke-kun! Good afternoon,” Hinata bows her head politely. “We are sorry… to come at such short notice…”

“What were you guys doing? Didn’t you hear the doorbell?” Naruto demands. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten all about us!”

Well, that certainly wasn’t very likely, Sasuke thinks disgustedly to himself.

“Hn. Come in,” he grunts, stepping aside to let them enter.

“So what took you so long?” Naruto was like a bloodhound that could sniff out mischief from a mile, Sakura thinks, cheeks burning furiously. To cover it up, she leans over the steam rising from the pan, figuring that the heat from there would help to disguise her red cheeks. Lunch was nowhere near ready! And they hadn’t even set the table! She reasons that Sasuke will just have to distract their guests while she races to catch up.

Or maybe they could pretend that they’d intentionally planned to set up together? But who did _that,_ when guests visited their house for the first time?

“Oh,” Sakura sings, trying her best to hide her embarrassment, as she finally turns to greet them properly. “Heh heh… Sorry it took so long! You know… we were just busy… making…” her eyes dart briefly onto the first thing in sight, and she blurts, “…salad!”

Behind Naruto and Hinata, Sasuke surreptitiously raises a dubious eyebrow at his wife.

_Making salad?_

What kind of ridiculous excuse was that?

“Uh…” Naruto forwardly gestures to the salad bowl, as he and Hinata blink incredulously at a still suspiciously blushing Sakura. “You… haven’t finished it though, have you? I mean, where’re the tomatoes? Sasuke’s addicted to those, right?”

“Heh heh…” There are many times when Sakura has wished to murder Naruto throughout the years, and _this_ is definitely one of those occasions.

Sasuke, sensing the need to cover his wife’s back, smoothly saves, “You called late.”

“O-oh!” Hinata gasps, all apologetic again. “We are so very sorry, you see…”

“Whatever, I’m Hokage, I don’t even have to call before I show up, believe it!” Naruto boasts, as Sasuke takes the pressure off Sakura and leads them to the living room.

Fifteen minutes later, once Naruto and Hinata are all settled in and Naruto is busy doing what he does best (being nosy), Sasuke, who has set the table, returns to his wife’s side to help her serve up lunch.

“Making _salad?_ ” he scoffs, under his breath.

“I didn’t know what else to say!” Sakura whispers back in dismay. “And anyway, this was entirely your fault, Sasuke-kun! If you hadn’t eaten that tomato-!”

Sasuke snorts, but a knowing little smirk plays on his lips, one that makes Sakura giggle despite herself.

* * *

Nine months later, they welcome their firstborn into the world, a little girl.

She is named _Sarada_ – in honour of the day - and the circumstance in which - she was conceived.


End file.
